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London Assurance 



A Comedy in Five Acts 



By 
DION L. BOUCICAULT 



This version is based upon the text employed in the prompt- 
book of the Boston Museum and gives the stage business 
used in the performances of the play at that once famous house. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

191 1 



« 



London Assurance 



CHARACTERS 

Covent Garden Park Theatre Tremont Theatre 

London, New York, Boston, 

March 4, 1841. Oct. 11,1841. Dec. 20, 1841. 

Sir Harcourt Court- 
ly Mr. W. Farren Mr. Placide John Gilbert 

Charles Courtly . J. R. Anderson Wm. Wheatley Mr. Cheswick 

Dazzle Chas. Matthews Mr. Browne J. M. Field 

Max Harkaway . . Mr. Bartley Mr. Fisher 

Dolly Spanker . . Robert Keeley W. H. Williams S. D. Johnson 

Mark Meddle . . .Mr. Harley Mr. Latham Mr. Johnson 

Cool Mr. Brindall Mr. A. Andrews Mr. Fenno 

Solomon Isaacs . . W. H. Payne 

Martin Mr. Ayliffe Mr. Howard 

James Simpson . . .Mr. Honner Mr. King 

Lady Gay Spanker . Mrs. Nisbett Charlotte Cushman Charlotte 

Cushman 

Grace Harkaway . Mme. Vestris Miss Clarendon Mrs. Field 

Pert Mrs. Humby Mrs. Vernon Miss Fisher 




Copyright, 191 1, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



©C1.D 23323 



INTRODUCTION 

The authorship of " London Assurance " has been ascribed 
to Mr. Dion L. Boucicault alone in every edition of the play 
that has ever been printed, and this public claim has never 
been directly challenged ; yet Mr. John Brougham, at divers 
places and times, has privately declared that he was a joint 
author in this work, and in a synopsis of his career written in 
1868 for and at the request of his subsequent biographer, Mr. 
William Winter, has made the definite statement that he " wrote 
' London Assurance ' in conjunction with Boucicault, who 
claimed the entire authorship, according to his usual ungener- 
ousness." He further writes: "Had to bring an action 
against D. B., whose legal adviser suggested payment of half 
the purchase money rather than conduct so damaging a case." 
As Mr. Brougham evidently regarded this alleged settlement as 
ample indemnity for his share in the play and never afterward 
took the trouble to secure recognition in the matter, and as 
Mr. Boucicault subsequently proved himself to have been quite 
competent to perform the work unaided, it may be fairly con- 
cluded that Brougham's share in this play was slight and his 
deserts less than was implied in the above quotation. The 
doubt that exists in this recent matter of disputed authorship 
of an unusually well-known play between two exceptionally 
well-known men of contemporary fame is full of interest to the 
partizans of Bacon and Shakespeare in a similar controversy. 

"London Assurance" was, accepting Mr. Boucicault as its 
sole author, the maiden effort of the most prolific and success- 
ful play maker of the nineteenth century. At the time of its 
first production at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, during 
the management of Mme. Vestris, March 4, 1841, the author 
— if the date of his birth, December 26, 1822, may be accepted 
on his own evidence — was in his twentieth year. The play 
was a great success ; it is safe to say that no dramatist ever 
had such a success for his first effort and at so early a period 
of his life. " London Assurance " was produced under a 
nom de plume, its authorship having been ascribed on the pro- 
gram of the first production to "Lee Morton," but its success 
made this precautionary incognito at once undesirable. 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION 

At the time of its first production many were inclined to as- 
cribe its success to the fine cast that was given to it, feeling 
that a play with Charles Matthews and his wife, Mme. Vestris, 
in it, supported by beautiful Louisa Nisbett (the original Con- 
stance in " The Love Chase " as well), the elder Farren, J. C. 
Anderson, Robert Keeley, Mrs. Humby, and Bartley could 
hardly fail. That that estimate was erroneous has been proved 
by the vitality of the play, which even to-day is often revived 
and is a favorite in the list of the so-called old comedies. 

" London Assurance " is the most artificial of plays, but it 
is the best possible example of the difference between art and 
real life and at the age of more than half a century it is still a 
good acting play. Its characters are all humbugs. There is 
not an honest sentiment or a touch of fine feeling in the entire 
play. Yet it is full of movement, full of life, and so well 
adapted to the actor's purpose that it is likely to enjoy long 
life yet. It belongs to a period when players acted. Its 
language is of an era when elocution was not despised, and 
actors who cannot read, and read in a declamatory manner, 
may struggle in vain for success in parts that are really grateful 
enough to the well equipped player of elocutionary roles. 
The modern colloquial manner will ruin this play. Yet no 
play of this period has been more often revived, or is more 
popular with ambitious amateurs. 

In preparing this book the prompt book used for years at the 
Boston Museum, the best known stock company theatre in this 
country, has been used, and the text carefully collated with 
the original edition. The traditional cuts have been made, 
but they were not many, being confined exclusively to the 
bombastic speeches of Grace and young Courtly in the second 
act and serving to shorten up a talky scene and much improve 
it. All the traditional gags which have become a part of the 
text by frequent use, and which, though never before printed 
in a stage copy of the play, will be heard in every regular pro- 
duction of the piece and found inserted in all stage managers' 
copies, are printed here for the first time. These lines will be 
recognized as the lines which always go with the greatest spirit, 
for they are tried improvements of famous actors accepted by 
stage managers because they were proven good. In the third 
act, for the first time, the first Lady Gay scene is printed as 
it is always played, a double transposition of the lines having 
always been made by stage managers in preparing the prompt 
book. This transposition of the lines remedies an anti-climax 



INTRODUCTION 5 

in the speeches of the first Lady Gay scene, and the success of 
that great scene, for which most actresses play the part, is thus 
assured, as it could not be in the arrangement of the original. 
That, too, is the practical result of the player's experience. 
The stage business, the relative positions of the players on the 
stage, are also indicated, making this edition of " London As- 
surance " the first complete stage version ever published either 
here or in England, and one from which regular companies can 
prepare the play without the aid of parts. 

" London Assurance " was originally dressed, of course, in 
the costume of 1840, but as the play retained the stage for 
years the habit of always making its time " present " held, and 
each decade dressed it in the costume of its own period until 
now it is more frequently seen in modern dress than in any 
other, and may as well be played so. But for those who wish 
to dress it in the garb of its real period, the costumes of the 
first production, as printed in the first edition of the play — 
published in Baltimore in 1842 — are given. 



COSTUMES 

Sir Harcourt Courtly. — First Dress : Brocade morn- 
ing gown, red slippers, velvet cap, etc. Second Dress : 
Black frock coat and gaiter pantaloons, cloak and low hat. 
Third Dress : Blue dress coat, light pantaloons, white 
waistcoat, black stock, with whiskers. 

Dazzle. — First Dress : Green coat, drab gaiter panta- 
loons, silk flowered vest. Second Dress : Light drab over- 
coat over first dress. Third Dress : Blue dress coat, bright 
velvet vest, and stock, and blue pants of a light shade. 

Charles Courtly. — First Dress : Green coat, light 
gaiter pants, cloak. Second Dress : Brown coat over first 
dress. Third Dress : Fashionable black dress of the period. 

Meddle. — Brown coat, white vest, dark pantaloons. 

Cool. — Light coat, white vest, dark pantaloons. 

Spanker. — First Dress : Blue coat, dark vest, checkered 
pantaloons. (This dress was changed soon after for the pink 
riding coat the Englishmen are so fond of, big white riding 
breeches and yellow top boots.) Second Dress : Black coat 
and pants and white vest. 

Lady Gay Spanker. — First Dress : Dark green riding 
habit, riding boots, high hat, and whip. Second Dress : A 
decollete evening gown. 

Grace. — First Dress : Morning dress of muslin, ruffled 
and with broad sash. Second Dress : Decollete dinner gown. 

Pert. — Light print frock with ruffled apron, with pockets, 
and white cap. 



London Assurance 



ACT I 

Scene. — An anteroom in Sir Harcourt Courtly's house in 
Belgrave Square. Handsomely furnished room. Table 
r. c, with chair at either side. 

READY bells and knocks* 
Enter Cool, c.,from r. 

Cool. Half-past nine, and Mr. Charles has not yet re- 
turned. I am in a fever of dread. If his father happens to 
rise earlier than usual on any morning, he is sure to ask first 
for Mr. Charles. Poor deluded old gentleman — he little thinks 
how he is deceived. (Enter Martin, lazily, l. 2 e.) Well, 
Martin, he has not come home yet ! 

Martin. No, and I have not had a wink of sleep all night. 
I cannot stand this any longer ; I shall give warning. This is 
the fifth night Mr. Courtly has remained out, and I'm obliged 
to stand at the hall window to watch for him. 

Cool (r.). You know, if Sir Harcourt was aware that 
we connived at his son's irregularities, we should all be dis- 
charged. 

Mar. (l.). I have used up all my common excuses on his 
duns. " Call again," " Not at home," and " Send it down to 
you," won't serve anymore; and Mr. Crust, the wine mer- 
chant, swears he will be paid. 

Cool. So they all say. Why, he has arrests out against 
him already. I've seen the fellows watching the door. 

KNOCK and ring. 

There he is, just in time— quick, Martin, for I expect Sir Hai- 
court's bell every moment, 

BELL. 



8 LONDON ASSURANCE 

and there it is. (Exit Mar., slowly, l. 2 e.) Thank heaven ! 
he will return to college to-morrow, and this heavy responsi- 
bility will be taken off my shoulders. A valet is as difficult a 
post to fill properly as that of prime minister. 

Exit c. to l. 

Young Courtly (without*). Hollo-0-0 ! 
Dazzle {without). Steady. 

Enter Young C. and Dazzle, l. i e. 

Young C. Hollo-0-0 ! 

Daz. (r.). Hush ! what are you about, howling like a 
Hottentot ? Sit down there, and thank heaven you are in Bel- 
grave Square instead of Bow Street. 

Young C. (l.). D-d-damn Bow Street. 

Daz. Oh, with all my heart ! — you have not seen as much 
of it as I have. 

Young C. I say — let me see — what was I going to say? — 

oh, look here (Pulls out a large assortment of bell-pulls, 

knockers, etc., from his pocket.) There! dam'me ! I'll puz- 
zle the two-penny postmen — I'll deprive them of their right of 
disturbing the neighborhood. That black lion's head did be- 
long to old Vampire, the money-lender ; this bell-pull to Miss 
Stitch, the milliner. 

Daz. And this brass griffin 

Young C. That ! oh, let me see — I think I twisted that off 
our own hall-door as I came in, while you were paying the 
cab. 

Daz. What shall I do with them ? 

Young C. Pack 'em in a small hamper, and send 'em to 
the sitting magistrate with my father's compliments ; in the 
meantime come into my room, and I'll astonish you with some 
Burgundy. 

Reenter Cool, c. door. 

Cool (r.). Mr. Charles 

Young C. (a). Out ! out ! not at home to any one. 

Cool. And drunk 

Young C. As a lord. 
Daz. As a whole House of Lords. 

Cool. If Sir Harcourt knew this he would go mad, he 
would discharge me. 



LONDON ASSURANCE g 

Young C. You flatter yourself; that would be no proof of 
his insanity. (To Daz., l.) This is Cool, sir — Mr. Cool; he 
keeps the keys of the wine cellar. 

Daz. I am always happy to shake hands with the man that 
keeps the keys of the wine cellar. 

Young C. Mr. Cool, sir; he's the best liar in London. 
Cool, tell us a lie — there's a pungency about his invention and 
an originality in his equivocation, that is perfectly refreshing. 

Cool (aside). Why, Mr. Charles, where did you pick 
him up ? 

Young C. You mistake, he picked me up. 

BELL at L. rings* 

Cool. Here comes Sir Harcourt — pray do not let him see 
you in this state. 

Young C State ! what do you mean ? I am in a beautiful 
state. 

Cool. I should lose my character. 

Young C. That would be a fortunate epoch in your life, 
Cool. 

Cool. Your father would discharge me. 

Young C. Cool, my dad is an old ass. 

Cool (l.). Retire to your own room, for heaven's sake, Mr. 
Charles. 

Young C. (a). I'll do so for my own sake. (To Daz.) 
I say, old fellow (staggering), just hold the door steady while 
I go in. 

Daz. (r.). This way. Now, then ! — take care ! 

(Helps him exit into the room, r. 2 e.) 

Enter Sir Harcourt Courtly, l., in an elegant dressing- 
gown, and Greek skullcap and tassels, etc. 

Sir H. (a). Cool, is breakfast ready ? 

Cool (r.). Quite ready, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. (l.). Apropos, I omitted to mention that I expect 
Squire Harkaway to join us this morning, and you must pre- 
pare for my departure to Oak Hall immediately. 

Cool. Leave town in the middle of the season, Sir Har- 
court ? So unprecedented a proceeding ! 

Sir H. It is ! I confess it ; there is but one power could 
effect such a miracle — that is divinity. 



IO LONDON ASSURANCE 

Cool. How ? 

Sir H. In female form, of course. Cool, I am about to 
present society with a second Lady Courtly ; young — blushing 
eighteen ; lovely ! I have her portrait ; rich ! I have her 
banker's account; — an heiress, and a Venus ! 

Cool. Lady Courtly could be none other. 

Sir H. Ha I ha ! Cool, your manners are above your 
station. Apropos, I shall find no further use for my brocade 
dressing-gown. 

Cool. I thank you, Sir Harcourt ; might I ask who the 
fortunate lady is ? 

Sir H. Certainly ; Miss Grace Harkaway, the niece of my 
old friend, Max. 

Cool. Have you never seen the lady, sir? 

Sir H. Never — that is, yes — eight years ago. Having 
been, as you know, on the Continent for the last seven years, 
I have not had the opportunity of paying my devoirs. Our 
connection and betrothal was a very extraordinary one. Her 
father's estates were contiguous to mine ; — being a penurious, 
miserly, ugly old scoundrel, he made a market of my indiscre- 
tion, and supplied my extravagance with large sums of money 
on mortgages, his great desire being to unite the two properties. 
About seven years ago he died — leaving Grace, a girl, to the 
guardianship of her uncle, with this will : — if, on attaining the 
age of nineteen, she would consent to marry me, I should re- 
ceive those deeds, and all his property, as her dowry. If she 
refused to comply with this condition, they should revert to my 
heir, presumptive or apparent. She consents. 

Cool {aside). Who would not? 

Sir H. I consent to receive her fifteen thousand pounds a 
year. (Crosses to r.) 

Cool (l.). Who would not? 

Sir H. (r.). So prepare, Cool, prepare (crossing to*.)-, but 
where is my boy, where is Charles ? 

Cool. Why — oh, he is gone out, Sir Harcourt ; yes, gone 
out to take a walk. 

Sir H. Poor child ! A perfect child in heart — a sober, 
placid mind — the simplicity and verdure of boyhood, kept fresh 
and unsullied by any contact with society. Tell me, Cool, at 
what time was he in bed last night ? 

Cool. Half-past nine, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Half-past nine ! Beautiful ! What an original 
idea! Reposing in cherub slumbers, while all around him 



LONDON ASSURANCE II 

teems with drinking and debauchery ! Primitive sweetness of 
nature ! no pilot-coated, bear-skinned brawling ! 

Cool. Oh, Sir Harcourt ! 

Sir H. No cigar smoking 

Cool. Faints at the smell of one. 

Sir H. No brandy and water bibbing 

Cool. Doesn't know the taste of anything stronger than 
barley-water. 

Sir H. No night parading 

Cool. Never heard the clock strike twelve, except at 
noon. {Up l.) 

Sir H. In fact, he is my son, and became a gentleman by 
right of paternity — he inherited my manners. 

Enter Mar., l. 2 e. 

Mar. Mr. Harkaway. 

Enter Max Harkaway, l. 2 e., and gives his hat and cane 
to Mar., who places them o?i table at l., and exit L. 2 E. 

Max (l.). Squire Harkaway, fellow, or Max Harkaway, 
another time. Ah ! ha ! Sir Harcourt, I'm devilish glad to 
see you ! Gi' me your fist — dang it but I'm glad to see you ! 
Let me see : six — seven years or more, since we have met. 
How quickly they have flown ! 

Sir H. (r., throwing off his studied manner). Max, Max ! 
give me your hand, old boy. {Aside.) Ah ! he is glad to see 
me ; there is no fawning pretense about that squeeze. Cool, 
you may retire. 

Exit Cool, c. to r. 

Max. Why, you are looking quite rosy. 

Sir H. Ah, ah ! rosy ! Am I too florid ? 

Max. Not a bit ; not a bit. 

Sir H. I thought so. {Aside.) Cool said I had put too 
much on. 

Max (l.). How comes it, Courtly, you manage to retain 
your youth ? See, I'm as gray as an old badger, or a wild rab- 
bit ; while you are — are as black as a young rook. I say, 
whose head grew your hair, eh ? 

Sir H. Permit me to remark, that all the beauties of my 
person are of home manufacture. Why should you be sur- 
prised at my youth ? I have scarcely thrown off the giddiness 



12 LONDON ASSURANCE 

of a very boy— elasticity of limb — buoyancy of soul ! Remark 
this position. {Throws himself into an attitude?) I held that 
attitude for ten minutes at Lady Acid's last reunion, at the 
express desire of one of our first sculptors, while he was making 
a sketch of me for the Apollo. 

Max (aside). Making a butt of thee for their gibes. 

Sir H. Lady Sarah Sarcasm started up, and, pointing to 
my face, ejaculated, " Good gracious ! does not Sir Harcourt 
remind you of the countenance of Ajax, in the Pompeian 
portrait?" 

Max. Ajax ! — humbug ! 

Sir H. You are complimentary. {Sits l. of table R.) 

Max. I'm a plain man, and always speak my mind. What's 
in a face or figure ? Does a Grecian nose entail a good temper ? 
Does a waspish waist indicate a good heart ? Or, do oily per- 
fumed locks necessarily thatch a well-furnished brain ? 

{Sits l. of table R.) 

Sir H. It's an undeniable fact, plain people always praise 
the beauties of the mind. 

Max. Excuse the insinuation ; I had thought the first Lady 
Courtly had surfeited you with beauty. 

Sir H. No; she lived fourteen months with me, and then 
eloped with an intimate friend. Etiquette compelled me to 
challenge the seducer ; so I received satisfaction — and a bullet 
in my shoulder at the same time. However, I had the conso- 
lation of knowing that he was the handsomest man of the age. 
She did not insult me by running away with a damned ill- 
looking scoundrel. 

Max. That, certainly, was flattering. 

Sir H. I felt so, as I pocketed the ten thousand pounds 
damages. 

Max. That must have been a great balm to your sore 
honor. 

Sir H. It was — Max, my honor would have died without 
it ; for on that year the wrong horse won the Derby — by some 
mistake. It was one of the luckiest chances — a thing that does 
not happen twice in a man's life — the opportunity of getting 
rid of his wife and his debts at the same time. 

Max. Tell the truth, Courtly — Did you not feel a little 
frayed in your delicacy — your honor, now ? Eh ? 

Sir H. Not a whit. Why should I ? I married money, 
and I received it — virgin gold ! My delicacy and honor had 



LONDON ASSURANCE 1 3 

nothing to do with it. The world pities the bereaved husband, 
when it should congratulate. No ; the affair made a sensation, 
and I was the object. Besides, it is vulgar to make a parade 
of one's feelings, however acute they may be; impenetrability 
of countenance is the sure sign of your highly- bred man of 
fashion. 

Max. So a man must, therefore, lose his wife and his 
money with a smile — in fact, everything he possesses but his 
temper. 

Sir H. (rising). Exactly ; and greet ruin with vive la 
bagatelle / For example : your modish beauty never discom- 
poses the shape of her features with convulsive laughter. A 
smile rewards the bon mot, and also shows the whiteness of her 
teeth. She never weeps impromptu — tears might destroy the 
economy of her cheek. Scenes are vulgar, hysterics obsolete ; 
she exhibits a calm, placid, impenetrable lake {both rise) f 
whose surface is reflection, but of unfathomable depth — a 
statue, whose life is hypothetical, and not a prima facie fact. 

(Crosses to l.) 

Max (r.). Well, give me the girl that will fly at your eyes 
in an argument, and stick to her point like a fox to his own 
tail. 

Sir H. But etiquette, Max ! remember etiquette ! 

Max (rising). Damn etiquette ! I have seen a man who 
thought it sacrilege to eat fish with a knife, that would not 
scruple to rise up and rob his brother of his birthright in a 
gambling-house. Your thoroughbred, well-blooded heart will 
seldom kick over the traces of good feeling. That's my 
opinion, and I don't care who knows it. 

Sir H. Pardon me — etiquette is the pulse of society, by 
regulating which the body politic is retained in health. I con- 
sider myself one of the faculty in the art. 

Max. Well, well; you are a living libel upon common 
sense, for you are old enough to know better. 

Sir H. Old enough ! What do you mean ? Old ! I still 
retain all my little juvenile indiscretions, which your niece's 
beauties must teach me to discard. I have not sown my wild 
oats yet. 

Max. Time you did, at sixty-three. 

Sir H. Sixty-three ! Good heavens ! — forty, 'pon my life 
forty, next March. 

Max. Why, you are older than I am. 



14 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Sir H. Oh ! you are old enough to be my father. 

Max. Well, if I am, I am; that's etiquette, I suppose. 
Poor Grace ! how often have I pitied her fate ! That a young 
and beautiful creature should be driven into wretched splendor, 
or miserable poverty ! 

Sir H. Wretched ! wherefore? Lady Courtly wretched ! 
Impossible. 

Max. Will she not be compelled to marry you, whether 
she likes you or not ? — a choice between you and poverty. 
{Aside.) And hang me if it isn't a tie ! But why do you not 
introduce your son Charles to me ? I have not seen him since 
he was a child. You would never permit him to accept any 
of my invitations to spend his vacation at Oak Hall — of course, 
we shall have the pleasure of his company now. 

Sir H. He is not fit to enter society yet. He is a studious, 
sober boy. 

Max. Boy ! Why, he's five and twenty. 

Sir H. Good gracious ! Max — you will permit me to know 
my own son's age — he is not twenty. 

Max. I'm dumb. 

Sir H. (calling). Cool ! You will excuse me while I in- 
dulge in the process of dressing. (Enter Cool, c, from R.) 
Prepare my toilet. (Exit Cool, c.) That is a ceremony 
which, with me, supersedes all others. I consider it a duty 
which every gentleman owes to society, to render himself as 
agreeable an object as possible; and the least compliment a 
mortal can pay to nature, when she honors him by bestowing 
extra care in the manufacture of his person, is to display her 
taste to the best possible advantage ; and so, au revoir. 

Exit, c. to l. 

Max {crossing to l.). That's a good soul — he has his 
faults, and who has not ? Forty years of age ! Oh, mon- 
strous ! — but he does look uncommonly young for sixty, spite 
of his foreign locks and complexion. 

Enter Daz., r. 2 e. 

Daz. (r.). Who's my friend with the stick and gaiters, I 
wonder — one of the family — the governor, maybe ? 

Max (l.). Who's this? Oh, Charles — is that you, my 
boy? How are you? {Aside.) This is the boy. 

Daz. He knows me — he is too respectable for a bailiff. 
{Aloud.) How are you ? 



LONDON ASSURANCE 1 5 

Max. Your father has just left me. 

Daz. (aside). The devil he has ! He has been dead these 
ten years. Oh ! I see, he thinks I'm young Courtly. (Aloud.) 
The honor you would confer upon me, I must unwillingly dis- 
claim — I am not Mr. Courtly. 

Max. I beg pardon — a friend, I suppose ? 

Daz. Oh, a most intimate friend — a friend of years — dis- 
tantly related to the family — one of my ancestors married one 
of his. (Aside.) Adam and Eve, — long way back. 

Max. Are you on a visit here ? 

Daz. Yes; oh! yes. (Aside.) Rather a short one, I'm 
afraid. 

Max (aside). This appears a dashing kind of fellow — as he 
is a friend of Sir Harcourt's, I'll invite him to the wedding. 
(Aloud.) Sir, if you are not otherwise engaged, I shall feel 
honored by your company at my house, Oak Hall, Gloucester- 
shire. 

Daz. Your name is 

Max. Harkaway — Max Harkaway. 

Daz. Harkaway — let me see — I ought to be related to the 
Harkaways, somehow. 

Max. A wedding is about to come off — will you take a part 
on the occasion ? 

Daz. With pleasure ! any part but that of the husband. 

Max. Have you any previous engagement ? 

Daz. I was thinking — eh? why, let me see. (Aside.) 
Promised to meet my tailor and his account to-morrow ; how- 
ever, I'll postpone that. (Aloud.) Have you good shooting? 

Max. Shooting ! Why, there's no shooting at this time 
of the year. 

Daz. Oh ! I'm in no hurry — I can wait till the season, of 
course. I was only speaking precautionally — you have good 
shooting ? 

Max. The best in the country. 

Daz. Make yourself comfortable ! — Say no more — I'm your 
man — wait till you see how I'll murder your preserves. 

Max. Do you hunt ? 

Daz. Pardon me — but will you repeat that ? 

READY knock L. 

Max. Do you hunt ? 

Daz. Hunt ! (Aside.) Delicious and expensive idea ! 

Max. You ride ? 



16 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Daz. Anything ! Everything ! From a blood to a broom- 
stick. Only catch me a flash of lightning, and let me get on 
the back of it, and dam'me if I wouldn't astonish the elements. 

Max. Ha! ha! 

Daz. I'd put a girdle round about the earth in very con- 
siderably less than forty minutes. 

Max. Ah ! ha ! We'll show old Fiddlestrings how to 
spend the day. He imagines that Nature, at the earnest re- 
quest of Fashion, made summer days long for him to saunter 
in the Park, and winter nights that he might have good time to 
get cleared out at hazard or at whist. Give me the yelping of 
a pack of hounds before the shuffling of a pack of cards. 
What state can match the chase in full cry, each vying with 
his fellows which shall be most happy ? A thousand deaths 
fly by unheeded in that one hour's life of ecstasy. Time is 
outrun, and Nature seems to grudge our bliss by making the 
day so short. 

Daz. No, for then rises up the idol of my great adoration. 

Max. Who's that ? 

Daz. The bottle — that lends a lustre to the soul ! — When 
the world puts on its nightcap, and extinguishes the sun — 
then comes the bottle ! Oh, mighty wine ! don't ask me to 
apostrophize. Wine and love are the only two indescribable 
things in nature; but I prefer the wine, because its conse- 
quences are not entailed, and are more easily got rid of. 

Max. How so ? 

Daz. Love ends in matrimony, wine in soda water. 

Max. Well, I can promise you as fine a bottle as ever was 
cracked. 

Daz. Never mind the bottle, give me the wine. Say no 
more ; but, when I arrive, just shake one of my hands, and put 
the key of the cellar into the other, and if I don't make myself 
intimately acquainted with its internal organization — well, I say 
nothing — time will show. 

Max. I foresee some happy days. 

Daz. And I some glorious nights. 

Max. It mustn't be a flying visit. 

Daz. I despise the word — I'll stop a month with you. 

Max. Or a year or two. 

Daz. I'll live and die with you. 

Max. Ha ! ha ! Remember Max 

Daz. Harkaway. 

Max. Oak Hall 



LONDON ASSURANCE I? 

Daz. Gloucestershire. I'll remember — fare ye well. (Max 
is going. ) Say, holloa ! — Tallyho-o-o-o ! 

Max {turning back up stage). Yoicks! — Tallyho-o-o-o! — 

Exit, L. 2 E. 

Daz. There I am — quartered for a couple of years, at the 
least. The old boy wants somebody to ride his horses, shoot 
his game, and keep a restraint on the morals of the parish : 
I'm eligible. What a lucky accident to meet Young Courtly 
last night ! Who could have thought it ? Yesterday, I could 
not make certain of a dinner, except at my own proper peril ; 
to-day I would flirt with a banquet. 

Enter Young C, r. 2 e. 

Young C. (r.). What infernal row was that ? Why, (seeing 
Daz.) are you here still? 

Daz. (l.). Yes. Ain't you delighted? I'll ring, and 
send the servant for my luggage. 

Young C. The devil you will ! Why, you don't mean to 
say you seriously intend to take up a permanent residence here ? 

(Rings the bell on table.) 

Daz. Now, that's a most inhospitable insinuation. 
Young C. Might I ask your name ? 

Daz. With a deal of pleasure — Richard Dazzle, late of the 
Unattached Volunteers, vulgarly entitled the Dirty Buffs. 

Enter Mar., l. 2 e. 

Young C. Then, Mr. Richard Dazzle, I have the honor of 
wishing you a very good-morning. Martin, show this gentle- 
man the door. 

Daz. If he does, I'll kick Martin out of it. No offense. 

Exit Mar., l. 

READY Martin and Isaacs 
for noise outside* 

Now, sir, permit me to place a dioramic view of your conduct 
before you. After bringing you safely home this morning — 
after indulgently waiting, whenever you took a passing fancy to 
a knocker or bell-pull — after conducting a retreat that would 
have reflected honor on Napoleon — you would kick me into the 



1 8 LONDON ASSURANCE 

street, like a mangy cur ; and that's what you call gratitude. 
Now, to show you how superior I am to petty malice, I give 
you an unlimited invitation to my house — my country house — 
to remain as long as you please. 

Young C. Your house ! 

Daz. Oak Hall, Gloucestershire— fine old place ! — for 
further particulars see road book — that is, it nominally belongs 
to my old friend and relation, Max Hark away ; but I'm 
privileged. Capital old fellow — say, shall we be honored? 

Young C. Sir, permit me to hesitate a moment. {Aside.) 
Let me see ; I go back to college to-morrow, so I shall not be 
missing ; tradesmen begin to dun 

KNOCK at hall door, L2E, 
followed by noisy argu- 
ment outside* 

I hear thunder ; here is shelter ready for me. 

Enter Cool, l. 2 e. ; drops down l. 

Cool. Oh, Mr. Charles, Mr. Solomon Isaacs is in the hall, 
and swears he will remain till he has arrested you ! 

Young C. Does he? — sorry he is so obstinate — take him 
my compliments, and I will bet him five to one he will not. 

Daz. Double or quits, with my kind regards. 

Cool. But, sir, he has discovered the house in Curzon 
Street ; he says he is aware the furniture at least belongs to 
you, and he will put a man in immediately. 

Young C. That's awkward — what's to be done? 

Daz. Ask him whether he couldn't make it a woman. 

Young C. I must trust that to fate. 

Daz. I will give you my acceptance, if it will be of any 
use to you — it is of none to me. 

Young C. No, sir ; but in reply to your most generous and 
kind invitation, if you be in earnest, I shall feel delighted to 
accept it. 

Daz. Certainly. 

Young C. Then off we go — through the stables — down the 
Mews, and so slip through my friend's fingers. 

Daz. But, stay, you must do the polite; say farewell to 
him before you part. Damn it, don't cut him ! x 

Young C. You jest ! 

Daz. Here, lend me a card. (Young C. gives him one.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE 19 

Loan me your pencil. (Young C. gives it to him. He turns 
Cool about, and, using his back for a desk, writes. ) ' ' Our 
respects to Mr. Isaacs — sorry to have been prevented from 
seeing him." Ha! ha ! 

READY curtain. 

Young C. Ha ! ha ! (Daz. puts pencil in his pocket.) 
I beg your pardon, that's my pencil. 

Daz. Excuse me. {Returns pencil to Young C.) We'll 
send him up some game. 

Young C. Yes, we'll send him a couple of rabbits. 

Daz. Yes, we'll send him a couple of rats. 

Young C. (to Cool). Don't let my father see him. 

Exeunt Young C. and Daz., r. 2 e. 

RING curtain. 

Cool. What's this? "Mr. Charles Courtly, P. P. C, re- 
turns thanks for obliging inquiries." 

Exit, L. 2 E. 
SLOW CURTAIN 



ACT II 



Scene. — The lawn before Oak Hall, a fine Elizabethan man- 
sion, which is seen at L. of stage. Statues, urns and 
garden chairs about the stage. Garden seat, R. C. 

Enter Pert, from house, l., to James Simpson, who is 
discovered. 

Pert. James, Miss Grace desires me to request that you 
will watch at the avenue and let her know when the squire's 
carriage is seen on the London road. 

James. I will go to the lodge. 

Exit, L. I E. 



20 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Pert. How I do long to see what kind of a man Sir Har- 
court Courtly is ! They say he is sixty ; so he must be old, 
and consequently ugly. If I were Miss Grace, I would rather 
give up all my fortune and marry the man I liked than go to 
church with a stuffed eel skin. But taste is everything — she 
doesn't seem to care whether he is sixty or sixteen; jokes at 
love ; prepares for matrimony as she would for dinner ; says it 
is a necessary evil, and what can't be cured must be endured. 
Now, I say this is against all nature ; and she is either no woman, 
or a deeper one than I am, if she prefers an old man to a young 
one. Here she comes ! looking as cheerfully as if she was 
going to marry Mr. Jenks ! My Mr. Jenks ! whom nobody 
won't lead to the halter till I have that honor. 

Enter Grace Harkaway, from house, l. 

Grace (r.). Well, Pert ! any signs of the squire yet? 

Pert (l.). No, Miss Grace; but James has gone to watch 
the road. 

Grace. In my uncle's letter he mentions a Mr. Dazzle, 
whom he has invited ; so you must prepare a room for him. 
He is some friend of my husband that is to be, and my uncle 
seems to have taken an extraordinary predilection for him. 
Apropos ! I must not forget to have a bouquet for the dear old 
man when he arrives. 

Pert. The dear old man ! Do you mean Sir Harcourt ? 

Grace. La, no ! my uncle, of course. {Plucks flowers.) 
What do I care for Sir Harcourt Courtly? {Crosses c.) 

Pert (l.). Isn't it odd, miss, you have never seen your in- 
tended, though it has been so long since you were betrothed ? 

Grace. Not at all ; marriage matters are conducted nowa- 
days in a most mercantile manner ; consequently, a previous 
acquaintance is by no means indispensable. Besides, my pre- 
scribed husband has been upon the continent for the benefit of 
his — property ! They say a southern climate is a great restorer 
of consumptive estates. 

Pert. Well, miss, for my own part, I should like to have a 
good look at my bargain before I paid for it ; 'specially when 
one's life is the price of the article. But why, ma'am, do you 
consent to marry in this blind-man's-buff sort of manner? 
What would you think if he were not quite so old ? 

Grace. I should think he was a little younger. 

Pert. I should like him all the better. 

Grace. That wouldn't I. A young husband might expect 



LONDON ASSURANCE 21 

affection and nonsense, which 'twould be deceit in me to 
render; nor would he permit me to remain with my uncle. 
Sir Harcourt takes me with the incumbrances on his estate, and 
I shall beg to be left among the rest of the live stock. 

{Crosses L.) 

Pert (r.). Ah, miss ! but some day you might chance to 
stumble over the man — what could you do then ? 

Grace. Do ! beg the man's pardon, and request the man 
to pick me up again. 

Pert. Ah ! you were never in love, miss. 

Grace. I never was, nor will be, till I am tired of myself 
and common sense. Love is a pleasant scapegoat for a little 
epidemic madness. I must have been inoculated in my in- 
fancy, for the infection passes over poor me in contempt. 

Enter James, l. i e. 

James. Two gentlemen, Miss Grace, have just alighted. 

Grace. Very well, James. (Exit James, l. i e.) Love 
is pictured as a boy; in another century they will be wiser, and 
paint him as a fool, with cap and bells, without a thought above 
the jingling of his own folly. Now, Pert, remember this as a 
maxim — A woman is always in love with one of two things. 

Pert. What are they, miss ? 

Grace. A man, or herself — and I know which is the most 
profitable. 

Exit, L. I E. 

Pert. I wonder what my Jenks would say, if I was to ask 
him. La ! here comes Mr. Meddle, his rival, contemporary 
solicitor, as he calls him — a nasty, prying, ugly wretch — what 
brings him here ? He comes puffed with some news. 

(Retires up r.) 

Enter Mark Meddle, with a newspaper, l. i e. 

Med. I have secured the only newspaper in the village — my 
character, as an attorney-at-law, depended on the monopoly of 
its information. I took it up by chance, when this paragraph 
met my astonished view : {Reads.) " We understand that the 
contract of marriage so long in abeyance on account of the 
lady's minority, is about to be celebrated at Oak Hall, Glouces- 



22 LONDON ASSURANCE 

tershire, the well-known and magnificent mansion of Maximilian 
Harkaway, Esq., between Sir Harcourt Courtly, baronet, of 
fashionable celebrity, and Miss Grace Harkaway, niece to the 
said Mr. Harkaway. The preparations are proceeding in the 
good old English style." (To c.) Is it possible ! I seldom 
swear, except in a witness box, but, dam' me, had it been known 
in the village, my reputation would have been lost; my voice 
in the parlor of the Red Lion mute, and Jenks, a fellow who 
calls himself a lawyer, without more capability than a broom- 
stick, and as much impudence as a young barrister after getting 
a verdict by mistake, why, he would actually have taken the 
Reverend Mr. Spout by the button, which is now my sole 
privilege. (Sees Pert.) Ah ! here is Mrs. Pert; couldn't 
have hit upon a better person. I'll cross-examine her — lady's 
maid to Miss Grace — confidential purloiner of second-hand 
silk — a nisi prius of her mistress — ah ! sits on the woolsack in 
the pantry, and dictates the laws of kitchen etiquette. (Pert 
comes down L.) Ah! Mrs. Pert, good-morning; permit me 
to say — and my word as a legal character is not unduly con- 
sidered — I venture to affirm that you look a — quite like the — 
a 

Pert (l.). Law! Mr. Meddle. 

Med. (r.). Exactly, like the law. 

Pert. Ha ! indeed ; complimentary, I confess ; like the 
law ; tedious, prosy, made up of musty paper. You sha'n't 
have a long suit of me. Good-morning. (Going.) 

Med. Stay, Mrs. Pert; don't calumniate my calling, or 
disseminate vulgar prejudices. 

Pert. Vulgar ! you talk of vulgarity to me ! you, whose 
sole employment is to sneak about like a pig, snouting out the 
dust-hole of society, and feeding upon the bad ends of vice ! 
you, who live upon the world's iniquity ; you miserable speci- 
men of a bad six-and-eightpence ! 

(Follows him around to R.) 
Med. (r.). But, Mrs. Pert 



Pert (r. a). Don't but me, sir; I won't be butted by 
any such low fellow. 

Med. This is slander ; an action will lie. 

Pert. Let it lie; lying is your trade. I'll tell you what, 
Mr. Meddle ; if I had my will, I would soon put a check on 
your prying propensities. I'd treat you as the farmers do in- 
quisitive hogs. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 2$ 

Med. How ? 

Pert. I would (w)ring your nose. 

Exit into house, l. 

Med. Not much information elicited from that witness. 
Jenks is at the bottom of this. I have very little hesitation in 
saying, Jenks is a libellous rascal ; I heard reports that he was 
undermining my character here, through Mrs. Pert. Now I'm 
certain of it. Assault is expensive ; but I certainly will put by 
a small weekly stipendium, until I can afford to kick Jenks. 

Daz. (outside). Come along ; this way ! 

Med. Ah ! whom have we here ? Visitors ; I'll address 
them. 

Enter Daz., l. i e. 

Daz. (l.). Who's this, I wonder; one of the family? I 
must know him. (To Med.) Ah! how are ye? 

Med. (r.). Quite well. Just arrived? — ah! — um ! Might 
I request the honor of knowing whom I address ? 

Daz. Richard Dazzle, Esquire ; and you 

Med. Mark Meddle, attorney- at-law. 

Enter Young C, l. i e. 

Daz. What detained you ? 

Young C. My dear fellow, I have just seen such a 
woman ■ 

Daz. (aside). Hush ! (Aloud.) Permit me to introduce 
you to my very old friend, Meddle. He's a capital fellow ; 
know him. 

Med. (r.). I feel honored. Who is your friend ? 

Daz. (a). Oh, he? What, my friend? Oh! Augustus 
Hamilton. 

Young C. (l.). How d'ye do ? (Looks off l.) There 
she is again ! 

Med. (looking off l.). Why, that is Miss Grace. 

Daz. (l. a). Of course, Grace. 

Young C. (c.). I'll go and introduce myself. 

(Daz. stops him.) 

Daz. (aside). What are you about? Would you insult 
my old friend Puddle by running away? (Aloud.) I say, 
Puddle, just show my friend the lions, while I say how d'ye do 



24 LONDON ASSURANCE 

to my young friend Grace. {Aside.) Cultivate his acquaint- 
ance. 

Exit, l. i e. Young C. looks after him. 

Med. Mr. Hamilton, might I take the liberty ? 

Young C. {looking off). Confound the fellow ! 

Med. Sir, what did you remark ? 

Young C. She's gone ! Oh, are you here still, Mr. Thingo- 
merry Puddle ? 

Med. Meddle, sir, Meddle, in the list of attorneys. 

Young C. Well, Muddle or Puddle, or whoever you are, 
you are a bore. 

Med. {aside). How excessively odd ! Mrs. Pert said I 
was a pig; now I'm a boar ! They're going the whole hog. 

Young C. (l.). Mr. Thingamy, will you take a word of 
advice ? 

Med. (r.). Feel honored. 

Young C. Get out. 

Med. Do you mean to — I don't understand. 

Young C. Delighted to quicken your apprehension. You 
are an ass, Puddle. 

Med. Ha ! ha ! another quadruped ! I wonder what they'll 
make of me next? Yes; beautiful. {Aside.) I wish he'd 
call me something libellous ; but that would be too much to 
expect. {Aloud.) Anything else ? 

Young C. Some miserable pettifogging scoundrel ! 

Med. Good! ha! ha! 

Young C. What do you mean by laughing at me ? 

Med. Ha ! ha ! ha ! excellent ! delicious ! 

Young C. Mr. , are you ambitious of a kicking ? 

Med. {parting his coat-tails and backing conveniently toward 
him). Very, very — go on — kick — go on. 

Young C. {looking off). Here she comes ! I'll speak to 
her. 

Med. But, sir — sir 

Young C. Oh, go to the devil ! (Runs off, l. i e.) 

Med. There, there's a chance lost — gone ! I have no hesi- 
tation in saying, and I say it boldly, that, in another minute, I 
should have been kicked ; literally kicked — a legal luxury. 
Costs, damages, and actions rose up like sky-rockets in my 
aspiring soul, with golden tails reaching to the infinity of my 
hopes. {Looks.) They are coming this way ; Mr. Hamilton 
in close conversation with Lady Courtly that is to be. Crim. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 25 

Con. Courtly versus Hamilton — damages problematical — 
Meddle, chief witness for plaintiff — guinea a day — professional 
man ! I'll take down their conversation verbatim. 

{Retires behind a bush, r., up stage.) 
Enter Grace, followed by Young C, l. i e. 

Grace (r.). Perhaps you would follow your friend into the 
dining-room; refreshment, after your long journey, must be 
requisite. 

Young C. (l.). Pardon me, madam; but the lovely garden 
and the loveliness before me, is better refreshment than I could 
procure in any dining-room. 

Grace. Ha ! Your company and compliments arrive to- 
gether. 

Young C. I trust that a passing remark will not spoil so 
welcome an introduction as this by offending you. 

Grace. I am not certain that anything you could say 
would offend me. 

Young C. I never meant 

Grace. I thought not. In turn, pardon me, when I re- 
quest you will commence your visit with this piece of infor- 
mation — I consider compliments impertinent, and sweetmeat 
language fulsome. 

Young C. I would condemn my tongue to a Pythagorean 
silence, if I thought it could attempt to flatter. 

Grace. It strikes me, sir, that you are a stray bee from the 
hive of fashion ; if so, reserve your honey for its proper cell. 
A truce to compliments. — You have just arrived from town, 
I apprehend. (Sits on garden seat.) 

Young C. This moment I left mighty London, under the 
fever of a full season, groaning with the noisy pulse of wealth 
and the giddy whirling brain of fashion. Enchanting, busy 
London ! how have I prevailed on myself to desert you ! Next 
week the new ballet comes out — the week after comes Ascot. 
Oh! 

Grace. How agonizing must be the reflection ! 

Young C. Torture ! Can you inform me how you manage 
to avoid suicide here ? If there was but an opera, even, within 
twenty miles ! We couldn't get up a rustic ballet among the 
village girls ? No ? — ah ! 

Grace. I am afraid you would find that difficult. How I 
contrive to support life I don't know — it is wonderful — but I 



26 LONDON ASSURANCE 

have not precisely contemplated suicide yet, nor do I miss the 
opera. 

Young C. How can you manage to kill time ? 

Grace. I can't. Men talk of killing time, while time 
quietly kills them. I have many employments — this week I 
devote to study and various amusements — next week to being 
married — the following week to repentance, perhaps. 

Young C. Married ! 

Grace. You seem surprised; I believe it is of frequent 
occurrence in the metropolis — is it not ? 

Young C. Might I ask to whom ? 

Grace. A gentleman who has been strongly recommended 
to me for the situation of husband. 

Young C. What an extraordinary match ! You seem to 
laugh at love. 

Grace (rising). Love ! why, the very word is a breathing 
satire upon man's reason — a mania, indigenous to humanity — 
nature's jester, who plays off tricks upon the world, and trips 
up common sense. When I'm in love, I'll write an almanac, 
for very lack of wit — prognosticate the sighing season — when 
to beware of tears — about this time expect matrimony to be 
prevalent ! Ha ! ha ! Why should I lay out my life in love's 
bonds upon the bare security of a man's word ? 

Enter James, l. i e. 

James. The squire, madam, has just arrived, and another 
gentleman with him. 

Exit James, l. 

Grace (a, aside). My intended, I suppose. 

(Crosses to L.) 

Young C. (r.). I perceive you are one of the railers against 
what is termed the follies of high life. 

Grace. No, not particularly; I deprecate all folly. By 
what prerogative can the west-end mint issue absurdity, which, 
if coined in the east, would be voted vulgar ? 

Young C. By a sovereign right — because it has Fashion's 
head upon its side, and that stamps it current. 

Grace. Poor Fashion, for how many sins hast thou to 
answer ! 

Young C. Pardon me, madam, you wrong yourself to rail 



LONDON ASSURANCE 2? 

against your own inheritance — the kingdom to which loveli- 
ness and wit attest your title. 

Grace. A mighty realm, forsooth — with milliners for min- 
isters, a cabinet of coxcombs, envy for my homage, ruin for 
my revenue — my right of rule depending on the shape of a 
bonnet or the set of a pelisse, with the next grand noodle as 
my heir-apparent. Mr. Hamilton, when I am crowned, I shall 
feel happy to abdicate in your favor. 

Curtsey and exit into house, l. 

Young C. (Jo l.). What did she mean by that? Hang me 
if I can understand her — she is evidently not used to society. 
Ha ! — takes every word I say for infallible truth — requires the 
solution of a compliment, as if it were a problem in Euclid. 
She said she was about to marry, but I rather imagine she was 
in jest. Ton my life, I feel very queer at the contemplation 
of such an idea — I'll follow her. (Med. comes down, r.) Oh ! 
perhaps this booby can inform me something about her. (Med. 
makes signs at him.) What the devil is he at ? 

Med. It won't do — no — ah ! um — it's not to be done. 

Younc C. (l.). What do you mean ? 

Med. {pointing after Grace). Counsel retained — cause to 
come off. 

Young C. Cause to come off ! 

Med. Miss Grace is about to be married. 

Young C. Is it possible ? 

Med. Certainly. If I had the drawing out of the deeds 

Young C. To whom? 

Med. Ha ! hem ! Oh, yes ! I dare say — information 
being scarce in the market, I hope to make mine valuable. 

Young C. Married ! married ! {Paces the stage.) 

Med. Now I shall have another chance. 

{Turns his back toward Young C. and lifts his coat-tails to 
have him kick him.) 

Young C. I'll run and ascertain the truth of this from 
Dazzle. 

Exit L., into house. 

Med. It's of no use ; he either dare not kick me, or he 
can't afford it — in either case, he is beneath my notice. Ah ! 
who comes here? — can it be Sir Harcourt Courtly himself ? 



28 LONDON ASSURANCE 

It can be no other. (Enter Cool, l. i e.) Sir, I have the 
honor to bid you welcome to Oak Hall and the village of 
Oldborough. 

Cool (aside). Excessively polite. (Aloud.) Sir, thank 
you. 

Med. The township contains two thousand inhabitants. 

Cool. Does it? I am delighted to hear it. (Crosses R.) 

Med. (to L., aside). I can charge him for that — ahem — 
six and eightpence is not much — but it is a beginning. (Aloud.) 
If you will permit me, I can inform you of the different com- 
modities for which it is famous. 

Cool. Much obliged — but here comes Sir Harcourt 
Courtly, my master, and Mr. Harkaway — any other time I 
shall feel delighted. 

Med. Oh ! (Aside.) Mistook the man for the master. 

(Retires up R.) 

Enter Max and Sir H., l. i e. 

Max (a). Here we are at last. Now give ye welcome to 
Oak Hall, Sir Harcourt, heartily ! 

Sir H. (l. c, languidly). Cool, assist me. 

(Cool takes off his cloak and gloves ; gives him white gloves 
and handkerchief, then places a flower in his coat. Gees l.) 

Max. Why, you require unpacking as carefully as my best 
bin of port. Well, now you are decanted, tell me what did 
you think of my park as we came along? 

Sir H. (a). That it would never come to an end. You 
said it was only a stone's throw from your infernal lodge to the 
house ; why, it's ten miles at least. 

Max (r.). I'll do it in ten minutes any day. 

Sir H. Yes, in a steam carriage. Cool, perfume my hand- 
kerchief. 

Max. Don't do it. Don't ! perfume in the country ! why, 
it's high treason in the very face of Nature; 'tis introducing 
the robbed to the robber. Here are the sweets from which 
your fulsome essences are pilfered, and libelled with their 
names ; don't insult them, too. (Med. comes down, c.) 

Sir H. (to Med.). Oh ! cull me a bouquet, my man ! 

Max (turning). Ah, Meddle! how are you? This is 
Lawyer Meddle. (Goes up, r. ; Cool, up l.) 

Sir H. Oh ! I took him for one of your people. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 29 

Med. (r. a). Ah ! naturally — um — Sir Harcourt Courtly, 
I have the honor to congratulate — happy occasion approaches. 
Ahem ! I have no hesitation in saying this very happy occasion 
approaches. 

Sir H. Cool, is the conversation addressed toward me ? 

Cool (l.). I believe so, Sir Harcourt. 

Exit into house and returns immediately having left Sir H.'s 

coat. 

Med. (a). Oh, certainly ! I was complimenting you. 

Sir H. Sir, you are very good ; the honor is undeserved ; 
but I am only in the habit of receiving compliments from the 
fair sex. Men's admiration is so damnably insipid. 

(Crosses to Max who is seated on bench, r.) 

Med. I had hoped to make a unit on that occasion. 

Sir H. Yes, and you hoped to put an infernal number of 
cyphers after your unit on that and any other occasion. 

Med. Ha ! ha ! very good. Why, I did hope to have the 
honor of drawing out the deeds ; for, whatever Jenks may say 
to the contrary, I have no hesitation in saying 

Sir H. (putting him aside, to Max). If the future Lady 
Courtly be visible at so unfashionable an hour as this, I shall 
beg to be introduced. 

Max. Visible ! Ever since six this morning, I'll warrant 
ye. Two to one she is at dinner. 

Sir H. Dinner ! Is it possible ? Lady Courtly dine at 
half- past one p. m. ? 

Med. (down l.). I rather prefer that hour to peck a little 
my 

Sir H. Dear me ! who was addressing you ? 

Med. Oh ! I beg pardon. 

Max (to r.). Here, James! (Calls. Enter James, l. 
ie.) Tell Miss Grace to come here directly. (Exit James, 
into house, l.) Now prepare, Courtly, for, though I say it, she 
is — with the exception of my bay mare, Kitty — the handsomest 
thing in the county. Considering she is a biped, she is a 
wonder ! Full of blood, sound wind and limb, plenty of bone, 
sweet coat, in fine condition, with a thoroughbred step, as 
dainty as a pet greyhound. 

Sir H. (r. a). Dam'me, don't compare her to a horse ! 

Max. Well, I wouldn't, but she's almost as fine a creature 
— close similarities. 



30 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Med. (l. a). Oh, very fine creature ! Close similarity, 
amounting to identity. 

Sir H. Good gracious, sir ! What can a lawyer know 
about women ? 

Med. Everything. The consistorial court is a fine study 
of the character, and I have no hesitation in saying, and I say it 
boldly, that I have examined more women than Jenks, or 

Sir H. Oh, damn Jenks ! 

Med. Sir, thank you. Damn him again, sir, damn him 
again! (Up r.) 

Enter Grace, from house, l. 

Grace (l. c, running to hint). My dear uncle ! 

Max. Ah, Grace, you little jade, come here. 

Sir H. (r. c, eyeing her through his glass). Oh, dear! 
she is a rural Venus ! I'm astonished and delighted. 

Max. Won't you kiss your old uncle? (Kisses her.) 

Sir H. (drawing an agonizing face). Oh ! — ah — um ! — 
N'importe! — my privilege in embryo — hem! It's very tan- 
talizing, though. 

Max. You are not glad to see me, you are not. 

(Kisses her again.) 

Sir H. Oh; no, no! (Aside.) That is too much. I 
shall do something horrible presently if this goes on. (Aloud.) 
I should be sorry to curtail any little ebullition of affection ; 
but — ahem ! May I be permitted ? 

Max. Of course you may. There, Grace, is Sir Harcourt, 
your husband that will be. Go to him, girl. (She curtsies.) 

Sir H. Permit me to do homage to the charms, the pres 
ence of which have placed me in sight of paradise. 

(Sir H. and Grace retire.) 

Enter Daz., l., and crosses to Max, r. 

Daz. Ah ! old fellow, how are you ? 

(Med. thinks that Daz. is speaking to him, and steps in be- 
tween Daz. and Max to shake hands. Daz. pays no at- 
tention to him, but pushes by and shakes Max by the 
hand.) 

Max (r. a). I'm glad to see you. Are you comfortably 
quartered yet, eh ? 






LONDON ASSURANCE 3 1 

Daz. Splendidly quartered ! What a place you've got 
here! Here, Hamilton. (Enter Young C, from house. 
Daz. crosses to him and brings him down r.) Permit me to 
introduce my friend, Augustus Hamilton. Capital fellow ! 
drinks like a sieve, and rides like a thunder-storm. 

Max (r. a). Sir, I'm devilish glad to see you. Here, Sir 
Harcourt, permit me to introduce to you 

(Goes up to Sir H.) 

Young C. (r.). The devil ! 

Daz. (r. c, aside). What's the matter? 

Young C. {aside). Why, that is my governor, by Jupiter ! 

Daz. (aside). What, old Whiskers ! you don't say that? 

Young C. (aside). It is; what's to be done now ? 

Max (advancing, a). Mr. Hamilton, Sir Harcourt Courtly 
— Sir Harcourt Courtly, Mr. Hamilton. 

Sir H. (advancing, l. a). Hamilton ! Good gracious ! 
Bless me ! Why, Charles, is it possible ? — why, Max, that's 
my son ! 

Young C. (aside). What shall I do ? 

Max. Your son ? 

Grace. Your son, Sir Harcourt ! have you a son as old as 
that gentleman ? 

Sir H. No — that is — a — yes, — not by twenty years — a — 
Charles, why don't you answer me, sir ? 

Young C. (aside to Daz.). What shall I say? 

Daz. (aside). Deny your identity. 

Young C. (aside). Capital ! (Aloud.) What's the mat- 
ter, sir? 

Sir H. How came you down here, sir ? 

Young C. By one of Newman's best fours — in twelve hours 
and a quarter. 

Sir H. Isn't your name Charles Courtly? 

Young C. Not to my knowledge. 

Sir H. Do you mean to say that you are usually called 
Augustus Hamilton ? 

Young C. Lamentable fact — and quite correct. 

Sir H. Cool, is that my son ? 

Cool (drops down l., puts on a pair of eye-glasses, looks 
at Young C, who makes a threatening gesture. Cool 
pauses — is undecided whether it is better to tell the truth or 
not. After a moment' s hesitation concludes to support Young 



32 LONDON ASSURANCE 

C. in his falsehood, and answers emphatically). No, sir — it is 
not Mr. Charles — but it is very like him. {Retires to L.) 
Max. I cannot understand all this. {Goes up.) 
Grace {aside). I think I can. {Goes up.) 

Med. 
Grace. Max. 

Young C. Sir H. 

Daz. Cool, 

r. L. 

Daz. (aside to Young C). Give him a touch of the in- 
dignant. 

Young C. {crossing r. a). Allow me to say, Sir What- 
d'ye-call-'em-Hartly 

Sir H. Hartly, sir ! Courtly, sir ! Courtly ! 

Young C. Well, Hartly, or Court-heart, or whatever your 
name may be, I say your conduct is — a — a — and were it not 
for the presence of this lady, I should feel inclined — to — to 

(Daz. and Young C. go up r.) 

Sir H. No, no, that can't be my son, — he never would ad- 
dress me in that way. 

Max {coming down). What is all this ? 

Sir H. Sir (Young C. comes down r.), your likeness to my 
son Charles is so astonishing, that it, for a moment — the equi- 
librium of my etiquette — 'pon my life, I — permit me to request 
your pardon. 

Med. (down l.). Sir Harcourt, don't apologize, don't — 
bring an action. I'm witness. 

Sir H. (l. a). Some one take this man away. 

(Med. goes up stage with Cool.) 
Enter James, from house. 

James. Luncheon is on the table, sir. 

Sir H. Miss Harkaway, I never swore before a lady in my 
life — except when I promised to love and cherish the late Lady 
Courtly, which I took care to preface with an apology, — I was 
compelled to the # ceremony, and consequently not answerable 
for the language — but to that gentleman's identity I would have 
pledged — my hair. 

Grace (aside). If that security were called for, I suspect 
the answer would be — no effects. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 33 

Exeunt Sir H. and Grace, into the house. 

Med. {to Max). I have something very particular to com- 
municate. 

Max. Can't listen at present. 

Exit, into house. 

Med. (to Daz. and Young C). I can afford you informa- 
tion, which I 

Daz. Oh, don't bother ! 
Young C. Go to the devil ! 

Exeunt Daz. and Young C, l., into house. 

Med. (r.). Now, I have no hesitation in saying, and I say 
it boldly, that is the height of ingratitude. — Oh — Mr. Cool — 
can you oblige me? (Presents his account.) 

Cool (l.). Why, what is all this? 

Med. Small account versus you — to giving information 
concerning the last census of the population of Oldborough and 
vicinity, six and eightpence. 

Cool. Oh, you mean to make me pay for this, do you ? 

Med. Unconditionally. 

Cool. Well, I have no objection — the charge is fair — but 
remember, I am a servant on board wages, — will you throw in 
a little advice, gratis — if I give you the money ? 

Med. Ahem ! — I will. 

Cool. A fellow has insulted me. I want to abuse him — 
what terms are actionable ? 

Med. You may call him anything you please, providing 
there are no witnesses. 

Cool. Oh, may I ? (Looks around.) Then, you rascally, 
pettifogging scoundrel ! 

READY to ring curtain* 

Med. Hello ! (Retreats to R. ) 

Cool (following him). You mean— dirty — disgrace to 
your profession. 

Med. Libel — slander 

Cool (going up l. ; turns). Ay, but where are your wit- 
nesses ? 

Med. Give me the costs — six and eightpence. 

Cool. I deny that you gave me the information at all. 

Med. You do ! 



34 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Cool. Yes, where are your witnesses ? 

Exit into house, l. 

Med. Ah — Jenks is at the bottom of this. I have no hesi- 
tation in saying, and I say it boldly — Damn Jenks ! ! ! 

RING curtain. 
QUICK CURTAIN 



ACT III 



Scene. — A morning room in Oak Hall, French windows 
opening to the lawn. Max and Sir H. seated at table R. ; 
Daz. at small table tip stage ; Grace and Young C. play- 
ing chess at l. All dressed for dinner. 

Max (aside to Sir H.). What can I do? 

Sir H. Get rid of them civilly. 

Max. What, turn them out, after I particularly invited 
them to stay a month or two? 

Sir H. Why, they are disreputable characters ; as for that 
young fellow, in whom my Lady Courtly appears so particu- 
larly absorbed — I am bewildered — I have written to town for 
my Charles, my boy — it certainly is the most extraordinary 
likeness 

Daz. Sir Harcourt, I have an idea 



Sir H. Sir, I am delighted to hear it. (Aside to Max.) 
That fellow is a swindler. 

Max. I met him at your house. {Rises.) 

Sir H. Never saw him before in all my life. 

Daz. (rising and coming down L. of Sir H.). I will bet 
you five to one that I can beat you three out of four games of 
billiards, with one hand. 

Sir H. No, sir. 

Daz. I don't mind giving you ten points in fifty. 

Sir H. Sir, I never gamble. 

Daz. You don't ! Well, I'll teach you — easiest thing in 
life — you have every requisite — good temper. 

Sir H. I have not, sir. (Rises.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE 35 

Daz. A long-headed, knowing old buck. 

Sir H. Sir ! {They go 7ip, conversing with Max, c.) 

Grace. Really, Mr. Hamilton, you improve. A young 
man pays us a visit, as you half intimate, to escape incon- 
venient friends — that is complimentary to us, his hosts. 

Young C. Nay, that is too severe. 

Grace. After an acquaintanceship of two days, you sit 
down to teach me chess and domestic economy at the same 
time. Might I ask where you graduated in that science — where 
you learned all that store of matrimonial advice which you have 
obliged me with? {They rise a?id co7?ie forward to c.) 

Young C. I imbibed it, madam, from the moment I beheld 
you, and having studied my subject con amore, took my degree 
from your eyes. 

Grace. Oh, I see you are a Master of Arts already. 

Young C. Unfortunately, no — I shall remain a bachelor — 
till you can assist me to that honor. 

Daz. {coming down on r., aside ; to Young C). How do 
you get on? 

Young C. {aside). Splendidly ! Keep the old boy away ! 

Sir H. {going to them). Is the conversation strictly confi- 
dential ? — or might I join ? 

Daz. {stepping between Sir H. and Young C, takes Sir H. 
by the arm and leads him down stage). Oh, not in the least, 
my dear sir — we were remarking that rifle shooting was an ex- 
cellent diversion during the summer months. 

Sir H. {drawing himself tip). Sir, I was addressing 

Daz. And I was saying what a pity it was I couldn't find 
any one reasonable enough to back his opinion with long odds 
— come out on the lawn, and pitch up your hat, and I will hold 
you ten to one I put a bullet into it every time, at forty paces. 

Sir H. No, sir — I consider you 

Max {at window). Here, all of you — look, here is Lady 
Gay Spanker coming across the lawn at a hand gallop ! 

Sir H. {running to windozv). Bless me, the horse is run- 
ning away ! 

Max. Look how she takes that fence ! there's a seat. 

Sir H. {coming down, l. a). Lady Gay Spanker — who 
may she be? 

Grace {down a). Gay Spanker, Sir Harcourt? My 
cousin and dearest friend — you must like her. 

Sir H. It will be my devoir, since it is your wish — though 
it will be a hard task in your presence. 



36 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Grace. I am sure she will like you. 
Sir H. Ha ! ha ! I flatter myself. 
Young C. Who, and what is she ? 

(All come down ; Max, c, Sir H., l. c, Grace and Young C, 
r., Daz. up c.) 

Grace. Glee, glee, made a living thing — Nature, in some 
frolic mood, shut up a merry devil in her eye, and, spiting 
Art, stole Joy's brightest harmony to thrill her laugh, which 
peals out sorrow's knell. Her cry rings loudest in the field — 
the very echo loves it best, and as each hill attempts to ape her 
voice, Earth seems to laugh that it made a thing so glad. 

Max (l. a). Ay, the merriest minx I ever kissed. 

(Lady Gay Spanker laughs without.) 

Lady G. (without ). Max ! 

Max. Come in, you mischievous puss. 

Enter James, r. u. e. 

James. Mr. Adolphus and Lady Gay Spanker. 

Exit, R. U. E. 

Enter Lady G., r. u. e., fully equipped in riding habit y etc. 

Lady G. (down a). Ha ! ha ! Well, governor, how are 
ye ? I have been down five times, climbing up your stairs in 
my long clothes. How are you, Grace, dear? (Kisses her.) 
There, don't fidget, Max. And there — (kissing him, l. c.) 
there's one for you. 

Sir H. (l.). Ahem ! 

Lady G. (a). Oh, gracious, I didn't see you had visitors. 

Max (l. a). Permit me to introduce (crossing c.) Sir 
Harcourt Courtly, Lady Gay Spanker. Mr. Dazzle, Mr. 
Hamilton — Lady Gay Spanker. 

Sir H. (aside). A devilish fine woman ! 

Daz. (aside to Sir H.). She's a devilish fine woman. 

Lady G. You mustn't think anything of the liberties I take 
with my old papa here — bless him ! (Kisses him again.) 

Sir H. Oh, no ! (Aside.) I only thought I should like 
to be in his place. 

Lady G. I am so glad you have come, Sir Harcourt. 



LONDON ASSURANCE tf 

Now we shall be able to make a decent figure at the heels of a 
hunt. 

Sir H. Does your ladyship hunt ? 

Lady G. Ha ! I say, governor, does my ladyship hunt ? 
I rather flatter myself that I do hunt ! Why, Sir Harcourt, 
one might as well live without laughing as without hunting. 
It's indigenous to humanity. Man was formed expressly to fit 
a horse. Are not hedges and ditches created for leaps ? Of 
course ! And I look upon foxes to be one of the most blessed 
dispensations of a benign Providence. 

(Grace and Young C, up r.) 

Sir H. (l. a). Yes, it is all very well in the abstract; I 
tried it once. 

Lady G. (r. a). Once! Only once? 

Sir H. Once, only once. And then the animal ran away 
with me. (Max r. ; Daz. l.) 

Lady G. Why, you would not have him walk ? 

Sir H. Finding my society disagreeable, he instituted a 
series of kicks, with a view to removing the annoyance ; but 
aided by the united stays of the mane and tail, I frustrated 
his intentions. {All laugh.) His next resource, however, 
was more effectual, for he succeeded in rubbing me off against 
a tree. 

^ G } Ha! ha! ha! 

Daz. {crossing between Lady G. and Sir H.). How ab- 
surd you must have looked with your legs and arms in the air, 
like a shipwrecked tea-table. 

Sir H. (l.). Sir, I never looked absurd in my life. Ah, it 
may be very amusing in relation, I dare say, but very unpleas- 
ant in effect. 

Lady G. I pity you, Sir Harcourt ; it was criminal in your 
parents to neglect your education so shamefully. 

(Grace and Young C., down r.) 

Sir H. Possibly ; but be assured, I shall never break my 
neck awkwardly from a horse, when it might be accomplished 
with less trouble from a bedroom window. 

Young C. (r., aside). My dad will be caught by this she 
Bucephalus tamer. 



38 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Max (to Sir H.). You must leave your town habits in the 
smoke of London ; here we rise with the lark. 

Sir H. Haven't the remotest conception when that period 
is. 

Grace (a). The man that misses sunrise loses the sweetest 
part of his existence. 

Sir H. Oh, pardon me ; I have seen sunrise frequently 
after a ball, or from the windows of my traveling carriage, and 
I always considered it excessively disagreeable. 

Grace. I love to watch the first tear that glistens in the 
opening eye of morning, the silent song the flowers breathe, the 
thrilling choir of the woodland minstrels, to which the modest 
brook trickles applause ; these swelling out the sweetest chord 
of sweet creation's matins, seem to pour some soft and merry 
tale into the daylight's ear, as if the waking world had dreamed 
a happy thing, and now smiled o'er the telling of it. 

Sir H. (l. a). The effect of a rustic education ! Who 
could ever discover music in a damp, foggy morning, except 
those confounded waits, who never play in tune, and a mis- 
erable wretch who makes a point of crying coffee under my 
window just as I am persuading myself to sleep : in fact, I 
never heard any music worth listening to, except in Italy. 

Lady G. (a). No? then you never heard a well-trained 
English pack in full cry ! 

Sir H. Full cry ! 

Lady G. Ay ! there is harmony, if you will. Give me the 
trumpet-neigh ; the spotted pack just catching scent. What a 
chorus is their yelp ! The view-hallo, blent with a peal of free 
and fearless mirth ! That's our old English music — match it 
where you can. 

Sir H. (l. c, aside). I must see about Lady Gay Spanker. 

Daz. (l., aside to Sir H.). Ah, would you 

Lady G. Time then appears as young as love, and plumes 
as swift a wing. Away we go ! The earth flies back to aid 
our course ! Horse, man, hound, earth, heaven ! — all — all — 
one piece of glowing ecstasy ! Then I love the world, myself, 
and every living thing — my jocund soul cries out for very glee, 
as it could wish that all creation had but one mouth, that I 
might kiss it ! (Goes tip c.) 

Sir H. (aside). I wish I were the mouth ! 

Max. Ah ! Sir Harcourt, had you been here a month 
ago, you would have witnessed the most glorious run that ever 
swept over merry England's green cheek — a steeple-chase, sir, 



LONDON ASSURANCE 39 

which I intended to win, but my horse broke down the day 
before. I had a chance, notwithstanding, and but for Gay 
here, I should have won. How I regretted my absence from 
it ! How did my filly behave herself, Gay ? 

Lady G. {down a). Gloriously, Max ! gloriously ! There 
were sixteen horses in the field, all mettle to the bone ; the 
start was a picture — away we went in a cloud — pell-mell — 
helter-skelter — the fools first, as usual, using themselves up — 
we soon passed them — first your Kitty, then my Blueskin, and 
Craven's colt last. Then came the tug — Kitty skimmed the 
walls — Blueskin flew over the fences — the colt neck-and-neck, 
and half a mile to run — at last the colt baulked a leap and went 
wild. Kitty and I had it all to ourselves — she was three 
lengths ahead as we breasted the last wall, six feet, if an inch, 
and a ditch on the other side. Now, for the first time, I gave 
Blueskin his head — ha ! ha ! Away he flew like a thunderbolt 
— over went the filly — I over the same spot, leaving Kitty in 
the ditch — walked the steeple, eight miles in thirty minutes, 
and scarcely turned a hair. (Crosses l. c.) 

All. Bravo ! Bravo ! 

Lady G. (l. a). Do you hunt ? 

Daz. (l.). Hunt ! I belong to a hunting family. I was 
born on horseback and cradled in a kennel ! Ay, and I hope 
I may die with a whoo-whoop ! 

Max. Why, we'll regenerate you, Baronet. 

Daz. Yes, we'll regenerate you, Baronet. 

(Slaps Sir H. o?i the shoulder so heavily that it topples him 
forward, making him look absurd and annoyed. He 
goes up and round to r. of Lady G.) 

Max. But Gay, where is your husband ? Where is Adol- 
phus ? 

Lady G. {coming down). Bless me, where is my Dolly? 

Sir H. You are married, then ? 

Lady G. I have a husband somewhere, though I can't find 
him just now. (Calls.) Dolly, dear ! (Aside to Max.) Gov- 
ernor, at home I always whistle when I want him. 

Enter Dolly Spanker, r. u. e. ; Grace and Max meet him 
and shake hands. 

Span. Here I am — did you call me, Gay ? 
Sir H. (eyeing him). Is that your husband ? 



40 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Lady G. {aside). Yes, bless his stupid face, that's my 
Dolly. 

Lady G. 
Max. Span. 

Grace. Sir H. 

Young C. Daz. 

r. L. 

Max. Permit me to introduce you to Sir Harcourt Courtly. 
Span. How d'ye do? I — ah! — urn! {Appears frightened.) 
Lady G. {getting behind Span, and speaking over his shoul- 
der). Delighted to have the honor 

Span, {repeating timidly). Delighted to have the honor 

Lady G. {as before). Of making the acquaintance 

Span. Of making the acquaintance 



Lady G. Of a gentleman so highly celebrated : 

Span. Of a gentleman so highly celebrated 

Lady G. In the world of Fashion. 

Span. In the world of Fashion. 

Lady G. {pushing him). That will do, stupid. 

Span. That will do, stupid. 

{Gets quite confused, draws on his glove and tears it.) 

Lady G. Where have you been, Dolly ? 

Span. Oh, ah, I was just outside. 

Max. Why did you not come in ? 

Span. I'm sure I didn't — I don't exactly know, but I 
thought as — perhaps — I can't remember. 

Daz. Shall we have the pleasure of your company to 
dinner ? 

Span. I always dine — usually — that is, unless Gay re- 
mains 

Lady G. Stay to dinner, of course ; we came on purpose 
to stop three or four days with you. 

Grace. Will you excuse my absence, Gay ? 

{Crosses to L. i e.) 

Max. What ! what ! Where are you going ? What takes 
you away ? 

Grace. We must postpone the dinner till Gay is dressed 

Max. Oh, never mind, — stay where you are. 

Grace. No, I must go. 

Max. I say you sha'n't ! I will be king in my own house. 









LONDON ASSURANCE 41 

Grace. Do, my dear uncle ; (crossing) you shall be king, 
and I'll be your prime minister, — that is, I'll rule, and you 
shall have the honor of taking the consequences. 

(Sir H. is about to offer his arm to Grace, when Daz. inter- 
cepts and leads her off and then returns and makes 
Sir H. a very low and polite bow.) 

Lady G. Well said, Grace \ have your own way ; it is the 
only thing we women ought to be allowed. 
Max. Come, Gay, dress for dinner. 
Sir H. (r.). Permit me, Lady Gay Spanker. 
Lady G. (a). With pleasure, — what do you want? 

(Crosses to l. and turns round.) 

Sir H. To escort you. 

Lady G. Oh, never mind, I can escort myself, thank you, 
and Dolly too ; come, dear ! 

Exit, l. 1 E. 

Sir H. Au revoir ! 

Span. Eh ? 

Sir H. Au revoir. 

Span. Thank you, I never do before dinner. 

Exit awkward and confused, l. i e. 

Sir H. What an ill-assorted pair ! 

Max. Not a bit ! She married him for freedom, and she 
has it ; he married her for protection, and he has it. 

Sir H. How he ever summoned courage to propose to her, 
I can't guess. 

Max (taking his arm). Bless you, he never did. She pro- 
posed to him. She says he would if he could; but as he 
couldn't, she did it for him. 

Exeunt Max and Sir H., laughing, through window, l. u. e. 

Enter Cool with letter, r. u. e. 

Cool (l.). Mr. Charles, I have been watching to find you 
alone. Sir Harcourt has written to town for you. 
Young C. (r.). The devil he has ! 
Cool. He expects you down to-morrow evening. 
Daz. (a). Oh ! he'll be punctual. A thought strikes me. 



42 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Young C. Pooh ! Confound your thoughts ! I can think 
of nothing but the idea of leaving Grace, at the very moment 
when I had established the most 

Daz. What if I can prevent her marriage with your gov- 
ernor ? 

Young C. Impossible ! 

Daz. He's pluming himself for the conquest of Lady Gay 
Spanker. It will not be difficult to make him believe she ac- 
cedes to his suit. And if she would but join in the plan 

Young C. I see it all. And do you think she would ? 

Daz. I mistake my game if she would not. 

Cool. Here comes Sir Harcourt ! 

Daz. I'll begin with him. Retire, and watch how I'll 
open the campaign for you. 

Exeunt Young C. and Cool, r. u. e. 
Enter Sir H., l. u. e. 

Sir H. (l. a). Here is that cursed fellow again. 

Daz. (r. a). Ah, my dear old friend ! 

Sir H. Mr. Dazzle ! 

Daz. I have a secret of importance to disclose to you. 
Are you a man of honor ? Hush ! don't speak ; you are. It 
is with the greatest pain I am compelled to request you, as a 
gentleman, that you will shun studiously the society of Lady 
Gay Spanker ! 

Sir H. Good gracious ! Wherefore, and by what right do 
you make such a demand ? 

Daz. Why, I am distantly related to the Spankers. 

Sir H. Why, hang it, sir, if you don't appear to be related 
to every family in Great Britain ! 

Daz. A good many of the nobility claim me as a connec- 
tion. But, to return — she is much struck with your address ; 
evidently, she laid herself out for display 

Sir H. Ha ! you surprise me ! 

Daz. To entangle you. 

Sir H. Ha ! ha ! why, it did appear like it. 

Daz. You will spare her for my sake ; give her no encour- 
agement ; if disgrace come upon my relatives, the Spankers, I 
should never hold up my head again. 

Sir H. (aside). I shall achieve an easy conquest, and a 
glorious. Ha ! ha ! I never remarked it before, but this is a 
gentleman. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 43 

Daz. May I rely on your generosity ? 

Sir H. Faithfully. {Shakes his hand.') Sir, I honor and 
esteem you ; but, might I ask, how came you to meet our friend, 
Max Harkaway, in my house in Belgrave Square ? 

Reenter Young C, r. u. e. ; sits on chair at r. 

Daz. Certainly. I had an acceptance of your son's for 
one hundred pounds. 

Sir H. {astonished). Of my son's? Impossible! 

Daz. Ah, sir, fact ! he paid a debt for a poor unfortunate 
man — fifteen children — half-a-dozen wives — the devil knows 
what all. 

Sir H. Simple boy. 

Daz. Innocent youth, I have no doubt; when you have 
the hundred convenient, I shall feel delighted. 

Sir H. Oh ! follow me to my room, and if you have the 
document, it will be happiness to me to pay it. Poor Charles ! 
good heart ! 

Daz. Oh, a splendid heart ! I dare say. (Exit Sir H., 
l. u. e.) Come here; bring your splendid heart here and 
write me the bill. 

Young C. (r., at table). What for? 

Daz. {standing above table). What for? why, to release 
the unfortunate man and his family, to be sure, from jail. 

Young C. Who is he? 

Daz. Yourself. 

Young C. But I haven't fifteen children ! 

Daz. Will you take your oath of that ? 

Young C. Nor four wives. 

Daz. More shame for you, with all that family. Come, 
don't be obstinate; write and date it back. 

Young C. {sitting). Ay, but where is the stamp? 

Daz. Here they are, of all patterns. {Pulls out a pocket- 
book.) I keep them ready drawn in case of necessity, all but 
the date and acceptance. {Hands paper which Young C. 
signs.) Now, if you are in an autographic humor, you can 
try how your signature will look across half-a-dozen of them ; 
— there — write — exactly — you know the place — across — good — 
and thank your lucky stars that you have found a friend at last, 
that gives you money and advice. {Takes paper.) I'll give 
the old gentleman this, and then you can relieve the necessities 
of your fifteen little unfortunates. 



44 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Exit, l. u. E. 

Young C. Things are approaching to a climax ; I must 
appear in propria persona — and immediately — but I must first 
ascertain what are the real sentiments of this riddle of a woman. 
Does she love me ? I flatter myself — by Jove here she comes — 
I shall never have such an opportunity again ! {Retires up, r.) 

Enter Grace, l. 

Grace. I wish I had never seen Mr. Hamilton. Why 
does every object appear robbed of the charm it once presented 
to me ? Why do I shudder at the contemplation of this mar- 
riage which, till now, was to me a subject of indifference? 
{Crosses j r., and sits.) Am I in love? In love! if I am, 
my past life has been the work of raising up a pedestal to place 
my own folly on — I — the infidel — the railer ! 

Young C. (advancing, l.). Meditating upon matrimony, 
madam ? 

Grace (aside). He little thinks he was the subject of my 
meditations! (Aloud.) No, Mr. Hamilton, I (Rises.) 

Young C. (aside). I must unmask my battery now. 

Grace (aside). How foolish I am — he will perceive that I 
tremble — I must appear at ease. (A pause ; she sits.) 

Young C. Eh? ah! urn! 

Grace. Ah ! (They sink into silence again ; aside.) How 
very awkward ! 

Young C. (aside). It is a very difficult subject to begin. 
(Aloud.) Madam — ahem— there was — is — I mean — I was 

about to remark that I was about to observe — a (Aside.) 

Hang me if it is not a very slippery subject. I must brush up 
my faculties ; attack her in her own way. (Aloud. ) Sing ! 
oh, muse ! (Aside.) Why, I have made love before to a 
hundred women ! 

Grace (aside). I wish I had something to do, for I have 
nothing to say. 

Young C. (sitting near her). Madam — there is — a subject 
so frate with, — faught — no, no, — so fraught with fate to my 
future life, that you must pardon my lack of delicacy should a 
too hasty expression mar the fervent courtesy of its intent. 
(Pause.) To you, I feel aware, I must appear in the light of a 
comparative stranger. 

Grace (aside). I know what's coming. 

Young C. Of you — I know perhaps too much 



LONDON ASSURANCE 45 

Grace. Eh ? 

Young C. For my own peace. 

Grace (aside). He is in love. 

Young C. I forget all that befell before I saw your beaute- 
ous self; I seem born into another world — my nature changed 
— the beams of that bright face falling on my soul have, from 
its chaos, warmed into life the flowrets of affection, whose 
maiden odors now float toward the clouds — the clouds — clouds. 
{Aside.) Damn me, I am in the clouds now. (Aloud.) I 
should say the sun, pouring forth on their pure tongue a mite 
of adoration, midst the voices of a universe. (Aside.) That's 
something in her own style. 

Grace. Mr. Hamilton ! 

Young C. You cannot feel surprised 

Grace. I am more than surprised. (Aside,) I am de- 
lighted. 

Young C. Do not speak so coldly. 

Grace. You have offended me. 

Young C. No, madam; no woman, whatever her state, 
can be offended by the adoration even of the meanest ; it is 
myself whom I have offended and deceived — but still I ask 
your pardon. 

Grace (aside). Oh ! he thinks I am refusing him. (Aloud.) 
I am not exactly offended, but 

Young C. Consider my position — a few days — and an un- 
surmountable barrier would have placed you beyond my wildest 
hopes — I would have been your mother ! No, no, no, I would 
have been your father. No ! no ! you would have been my 
mother. (He starts up, annoyed at having betrayed himself.) 

Grace. I should have been your mother ! (Aside.) I 
thought so. 

Young C. No — that is, I meant Sir Harcourt Courtly' s 
bride. 

Grace (with great emphasis). Never ! 

Young C. How! never! may I then hope? — you turn 
away — you would not lacerate me by a refusal ? 

Grace (aside). How stupid he is ! 

(Turns her back on him and puts her hand behind her for him 
to take it. Young C. is bewildered and does not under- 
stand until she reaches the line "Unhand me, sir.") 

Young C. Still silent ! I thank you, Miss Grace — I ought 



46 LONDON ASSURANCE 

to have expected this — fool that I have been — one course alone 
remains — farewell ! 

Grace {aside). Now he's going. 

Young C. Farewell forever ! {Sits.') Will you not speak 
one word ? I shall leave this house immediately — I shall not 
see you again. 

Grace. Unhand me, sir, I insist. 

Young C. {aside). Oh ! what an ass I've been ! {Rushes 
up to her and seizes her hand.) Release this hand? Never! 
never ! {Kisses it.) Never will I quit this hand ! it shall be 
my companion in misery — in solitude — when you are far away. 

Grace. Oh ! should any one come ! {Drops her hand- 
kerchief ; he stoops to pick it up and puts it in his breast pocket 
for business in next act.) For heaven's sake, do not kneel. 

Young C. {kneeling). Forever thus prostrate, before my 
soul's saint, I will lead a pious life of eternal adoration. 

Grace. Should we be discovered thus — pray, Mr. Hamil- 
ton — pray — pray. 

Young C. Pray ! I am praying; what more can I do? 

Grace. Your conduct is shameful. 

Young C. It is. {Rises.) 

Grace. And if I do not scream, it is not for your sake — 
that — but it might alarm the family. 

Young C. It might — it would. Say, am I wholly indiffer- 
ent to you ? I entreat one word — I implore you — do not with- 
draw your hand. {She snatches it away; he puts his arm 
around her waist.) You smile. 

Grace. Leave me, dear Mr. Hamilton ! 

Young C. Dear ! Then I am dear to you ; that word once 
more ; say — say you love me ! 

Grace. Is this fair ? 

(Young C. catches her in his arms and kisses her.) 

Enter Lady G., l. u. e. Young C. turns at the moment to 
l. , as Lady G. enters. Grace, seeing her first, runs off 
r. i e., with a suppressed scream. At that moment 
Young C. turns as if to address Grace, discovers his 
mistake, and is for a moment embarrassed. 

Lady G. Ha ! oh ! 
Young C. Fizgig ! The devil ! 

Lady G. Don't mind me — pray, don't let me be any in- 
terruption ! 



LONDON ASSURANCE 47 



Young C. I was just 



Lady G. Yes, I see you were. 

Young C. Oh ! madam, how could you mar my bliss in 
the very ecstasy of its fulfilment ? 

Lady G. I always like to be in at the death. Never drop 
your ears; bless you, she's only a little fresh — give her her 
head, and she will outrun herself. 

Young C. Possibly; but what am I to do ? 

Lady G. Keep your seat. 

Young C. But in a few days she will take a leap that must 
throw me — she marries Sir Harcourt Courtly. 

Lady G. Why, that is awkward, certainly; but you can 
challenge him, and shoot him. 

Young C. Unfortunately that is out of the question. 

Lady G. How so ? 

Young C. You will not betray a secret, if I inform you ? 

Lady G. All right — what is it? 

Young C. I am his son. 

READY dinner belL 

Lady G. What — his son ? But he does not know you ? 

Young C. No ; I met him here by chance, and faced it 
out. I never saw him before in my life. 

Lady G. Beautiful ! I see it all — you're in love with your 
mother that should be — your wife, that will be. 

Young C. Now I think I could distance the old gentle- 
man, if you will but lend us your assistance. 

Lady G. I will, in anything. 

Young C. You must know, then, that my father, Sir Har- 
court, has fallen desperately in love with you. 

Lady G. With me ! (Utters a scream of delight.) That 
is delicious ! 

Young C. Now, if you only could 

Lady G. Could !— I will ! Ha ! ha ! I see my cue. Til 
cross his scent — I'll draw him after me. Ho ! ho ! won't I 
make love to him ? Ha ! 

Young C. The only objection might be Mr. Spanker, who 
might 

Lady G. No, he mightn't, he has no objection. Bless him, 
he's an inestimable little character — you don't know him as 
well as I do. I dare say — ha ! ha ! 

RING dinner belL 



48 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Here they come to dinner. I'll commence my operations on 
your governor immediately. Ha ! ha ! how I shall enjoy it. 

WARN curtain* 

Young C. Be guarded ! 

Enter Max, r., Sir H., l., Daz., r., Span., l., and 
Grace, r. i e. 

Max. Now, gentlemen — Sir Harcourt, do you lead Grace. 
Lady G. I believe Sir Harcourt is engaged to me. 

{Takes his arm.) 

Max. Well, please yourselves. 

RING curtain* 

{They file out, l., Max first, Young C. and Grace, Sir H., 
coquetting with Lady G., leaving Daz., who offers his 
arm to Span., and walks on. Span, runs after him, try- 
ing to take it.) 

QUICK CURTAIN 



ACT IV 



Scene. — Same as Act III. Grace and Lady G. discovered 
drinking coffee. 

READY voices L. U. E. 

Grace (on ottoman, r. a). If there be one habit more 
abominable than another, it is that of the gentlemen sitting 
over their wine ; it is a selfish, unfeeling fashion, and a gross 
insult to our sex. 

Lady G. (l.). We are turned out just when the fun begins. 
How happy the poor wretches look at the contemplation of 
being rid of us. 

Grace. The conventional signal for the ladies to withdraw 
is anxiously and deliberately waited for. 

Lady G. Then I begin to wish I were a man. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 49 

Grace. The instant the door is closed upon us, there rises 
a roar ! 

Lady G. In celebration of their short-lived liberty, my love ; 
rejoicing over their emancipation. 

Grace. I think it very insulting, whatever it may be. 

Lady G. Ah ! my dear, philosophers say that man is the 
creature of an hour — it is the dinner hour, I suppose. 

Daz. {without), A song, a song ! 

CRIES outside* 

( Voices as if in approval of the proposition, knocking on table, 
etc. " Bravo / " at back.) 

Enter servant, L., to take coffee-cups from Lady G. and 

Grace. 

Grace. I am afraid they are getting too pleasant to be 
agreeable. 

Lady G. I hope the squire will restrict himself; after his 
third bottle he becomes rather voluminous. 

CRIES outside of "Silence* silence*'* 

Some one is going to sing. (Jumps up.) Let us hear ! 
Grace. Oh, no, Gay, for heaven's sake ! 

(Span, is heard to sing "A Southerly Wind and a Cloudy 
Sky" ; after verse, chorus.) 

Lady G. Oho ! ha ! ha ! why, that is my Dolly. {At the 
conclusion of the verse.) Well, I never heard my Dolly sing 
before ! Happy wretches, how I envy them ! 

Enter James, l. i e., with a note on salver. 

James. Mr. Hamilton has just left the house for London. 
Grace. Impossible ! — that is, without seeing — that is 



{Rises and crosses to James.) 

Lady G. Ha ! ha ! 

Grace. He never — speak, sir ! 

James. He left, Miss Grace, in a desperate hurry, and this 
note, I believe, is for you. {Presents a note on salver.) 

Grace. For me ! {About to snatch it, but restraining her- 
self, takes it coolly. Exit James, l. i e.) Excuse me, Gay. 
{Reads.) "Your manner during dinner has left me no al- 



50 LONDON ASSURANCE 

ternative but instant departure ; my absence will release you 
from the oppression which my society must necessarily inflict 
on your sensitive mind. It may tend also to smother, though 
it can never extinguish, that indomitable passion, of which I 
am the passive victim. Dare I supplicate pardon and oblivion 
for the past ? It is the last request of the self-deceived, but 
still loving Augustus Hamilton." 



(Puts her hand to her forehead and appears giddy.} 

Lady G. Hallo, Grace ! Pull up; what's the matter? 

Grace {recovering herself). Nothing — the heat of the 
room. 

Lady G. Oh ! what excuse does he make ? Particular un- 
foreseen business, I suppose ? 

Grace. Why, yes — a mere formula — a — a — you may put 
it in the fire. {Puts it in her bosom.) 

Lady G. {aside). It is near enough to the fire where 
it is. 

Grace (a). I'm glad he's gone. 

Lady G. (r.). So am I. 

Grace. He was a disagreeable, ignorant person. 

Lady G. Yes ; and so vulgar. 

Grace. No, he was not at all vulgar. 

Lady G. I mean in appearance. 

Grace. Oh ! how can you say so ? He was very dis- 
tingue. 

Lady G. Well, I might have been mistaken, but I took 
him for a forward, intrusive 

Grace. Good gracious, Gay ! he was very retiring — even 
shy. 

Lady G. {aside). It's all right. She is in love, — blows hot 
and cold in the same breath. 

Grace. How can you be a competent judge? Why, you 
have not known him more than a few hours, — while I — I 

Lady G. Have known him two days and a quarter ! I 
yield — I confess, I never was, or will be so intimate with him 
as you appeared to be ! Ha ! ha ! 

{Loud noise of argument ; the folding-doors are thrown open. 
Enter the whole party of gentlemen, apparently engaged 



LONDON ASSURANCE 5 1 

in warm discussion. Max, Sir H., Daz., and Span., to- 
gether, and take positions as follows.) 

Max. 
Daz. Sir H. 

Span. 
Lady G. 
Grace (seated). 

R. L. 

Daz. (up a). But, my dear sir, consider the state of the 
two countries, under such a constitution. 

Sir H. (l. a). The two countries ! What have they to 
do with the subject? 

Max (r. a). Everything. Look at their two legislative 
bodies. 

Span, (a, a little drunk). Ay, look at their two legislative 
bodies. 

Sir H. Why, it would inevitably establish universal an- 
archy and confusion. 

Grace (r. a). I think they are pretty well established 
already. 

Span. Well, suppose it did, what have anarchy and con- 
fusion to do with the subject ? 

Lady G. (r. a). Do look at my Dolly: he is arguing — 
talking politics — 'pon my life he is. (Calls.) Mr. Spanker, 
my dear ! 

Span. Excuse me, love, I am discussing a point of impor- 
tance. 

Lady G. Oh, that is delicious ; he must discuss that to me. 
(She goes up and leads him down c. ; he appears to have 
shaken off his gaucherie ; she shakes her head.) Dolly! 
Dolly ! 

Span. (l.). Pardon me, Lady Gay Spanker, I conceive 
your mutilation of my sponsorial appellation highly derogatory 
to my amour propre. 

Lady G. (a). Your what? Ho! ho! 

Span. And I particularly request that, for the future, I may 
not be treated with that cavalier spirit which does not become 
your sex nor your station, your ladyship. 

Lady G. You have been indulging till you have lost the 
little wit nature dribbled into your unfortunate little head — 
your brains want the whipper-in — you are not yourself. 

Span. Madam, I am doubly myself; and permit me to 



52 



LONDON ASSURANCE 



inform you, that unless you voluntarily pay obedience to ray 
commands, I shall enforce them. 

Lady G. Your commands ! 

Span. Yes, madam; I mean to put a full stop to your 
hunting. 

Lady G. You do S ah ! (Aside.) I can scarcely speak 
from delight. (Aloud.) Who put such an idea into your head, 
for I am sure it is not an original emanation of your genius ? 

Span. Sir Harcourt Courtly, my friend; and now, mark 
me ! I request, for your own sake, that I may not be com- 
pelled to assert my a — my authority, as your husband. I shall 
say no more than this — if you persist in your absurd re- 
bellion 

LadyG. Well? 

Span. Contemplate a separation. 

(Looks at her haughtily and retires up.) 

Lady G. Now I'm happy ! My own little darling, inesti- 
mable Dolly has tumbled into a spirit, somehow. Sir Har- 
court, too ! Ha ! ha ! he's trying to make him ill-treat me, so 
that his own suit may thrive. 

(Max goes to Grace, r. Daz. goes down to table l. and 
picks up a book. Span, is up stage. Sir H. goes down 
on Lady G.'s l. as she stands in c.) 

Sir H. (l. c, advancing). Lady Gay ! 

Lady G. (aside). Now for it. (They sit on ottoman, c.) 

Sir H. What hours of misery were those I passed when, by 
your secession, the room suffered a total eclipse. 

Lady G. Ah ! you flatter. 

Sir H. No, pardon me, that were impossible. No, believe 
me, I tried to join in the boisterous mirth, but my thoughts 
would desert to the drawing-room. Ah ! how I envied the 
careless levity and cool indifference with which Mr. Spanker 
enjoyed your absence. 

Daz. (who is lounging in a chair, r.). Max, that Madeira 
is worth its weight in gold ; I hope you have more of it. 

Max (r., talking with Grace). A pipe, I think. 

Daz. I consider a magnum of that nectar, and a meer- 
schaum of kanaster, to consummate the ultimatum of all mun- 
dane bliss. To drown myself in liquid ecstasy and then blow 
a cloud on which the enfranchised soul could soar above 
Olympus. Oh ! 



LONDON ASSURANCE 53 

Enter James, r. u. e. 
James. Mr. Charles Courtly ! 

Exit, R. u. E. 

Sir H. Ah now, Max, you must see a living apology for 
my conduct. (Enter Young C, dressed very plainly, r. u. e. 
Crosses at back and comes down in l. corner.) Well, Charles, 
how are you ? Don't be afraid. There, Max, what do you 
say now ? 

Max (r. a). Well, this is the most extraordinary likeness. 

Grace (r., aside). Yes — considering it is the original. I 
am not so easily deceived ! 

Max (crossing l. c. and shaking hands). Sir, I am de- 
lighted to see you. 

Young C. Thank you, sir. 

READY music on stage outside* 

Daz. (r.). Will you be kind enough to introduce me, Sir 
Harcourt ? 

(Comes down r., bringing Span, with him. Span, is very 
drunk. When they are introduced Daz. crosses to 
Young C, still leading Span. As he passes him, bow- 
ing, there is a mutual recognition.) 

Sir H. This is Mr. Dazzle, Charles. 
Young C. Which ? 

(Looks from Span. r. c. to Daz. r. Daz. crosses r. c, 
nearly tumbling over Span, who goes up. Young C. 
winks at Daz.) 

Sir H. (to Lady G.). Is not that refreshing? Miss Hark- 
away — Charles, this is your mother, or rather will be. 

(Lady G. steps down unintentionally between Young C. and 
Grace at the introduction.) 

Young C. Madam, I shall love (Discovers he is 

speaking to Lady G. ; is embarrassed when corrected and 
crosses to Grace.) Madam, I shall love, honor and obey you 
punctually. (Takes out a book, sighs, and goes up reading.) 

Enter James, l. i e. 



54 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Sir H. You perceive ? Quite unused to society — perfectly 
ignorant of every conventional rule of life. 

James. The doctor and the young ladies have arrived. 

Exit, L. I E. 

(Daz. takes Span, by the nape of the neck and drags him off 
l. ie., crossing from r.) 

DANCE music off L. 

Max. The young ladies — now we must go to the hall — I 
make it a rule always to commence the festivities with a good 
old country dance — a rattling Sir Roger de Coverly; come, 
Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Does this antiquity require a war-whoop in it? 

Max (a). Nothing but a nimble foot and a light heart. 

Sir H. Very antediluvian indispensables ! Lady Gay Spanker, 
will you honor me by becoming my preceptor ? 

Lady G. Why, I am engaged — but on such a plea as Sir 
Harcourt' s, I must waive all obstacles. 

(Gives her hand.) 

M^x. Now, Grace, girl — give your hand to Mr. Courtly. 

Grace (sitting a). Pray, excuse me, uncle — I have a 
headache. 

Sir H. (aside l. c, leading Lady G.). Jealousy ! by the 
gods. Jealous of my devotions at another's fane ! (Aloud.) 
Charles, my boy ! amuse Miss Grace during our absence. 

Exit with Lady G., l. i e. 

Max (l.). But don't you dance, Mr. Courtly? 

Young C. (r.). Dance, sir ! — I never dance — I can pro- 
cure exercise in a much more rational manner — and music 
disturbs my meditations. 

Max. Well, do the gallant. 

Young C. I never studied that art — but I have a Prize 
Essay on a hydrostatic subject, which would delight her — for 
it enchanted the Reverend Doctor Pump, of Corpus Christi. 

Max. Oh, Pump ! 

Exit, l. u. E. 
Grace (aside). What on earth could have induced him to 



LONDON ASSURANCE 55 

disfigure himself in that frightful way ! — I rather suspect some 
plot to entrap me into a confession. 

Young C. (aside). Dare I confess this trick to her ? No ! 
Not until I have proved her affection indisputably. Let me 
see, I must concoct. {Takes a chair, and forgetting his as- 
sumed character, is about to take his natural free manner. 
Grace looks surprised. He turns abashed.) Madam, I have 
been desired to amuse you. 

Grace. Thank you. 

Young C. " The labor we delight in, physics pain." I will 
draw you a moral, ahem ! Subject, the effects of inebriety ! — 
which, according to Ben Jonson — means perplexion of the in- 
tellects, caused by imbibing spirituous liquors. About an hour 
before my arrival, I passed an appalling evidence of the effects 
of this state — a carriage was overthrown — horses killed — gentle- 
man in a hopeless state, with his neck broken — all occasioned 
by the intoxication of the post-boy. 

(Takes Grace's handkerchief out of his pocket where he put it 
in his scene with her in the previous act, and wipes his eyes. 
In so doing Grace recognizes her handkerchief. Young 
C. sees the discovery immediately and puts the handker- 
chief under him as soon as possible.} 

Grace. That is very amusing. 

Young C. I found it edifying — nutritious food for reflec- 
tion — the expiring man desired his best compliments to you. 
Grace. To me? (She rises.) 
Young C. Yes. 

Grace. His name was 

Young C. Mr. Augustus Hamilton. 
Grace. Augustus ! Oh ! 

(Affects to faint, sinking back on the ottoman.) 

Young C. (aside). Huzza ! She loves me ! 
Grace. But where, sir, did this happen ? 
Young C. About four miles down the road. 
Grace. He must be conveyed here. 

READY waltz music outside* 
Enter James, r. u. e. 
James. Mr. Meddle, madam. 

Exit, R. u. E. 



56 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Enter Med., r. u. e. 

Med. On very particular business. 

Grace. The very person. My dear sir ! 

Med. (l.). My dear madam ! (Young C. crosses to r.) 

Grace (a). You must execute a very particular commis- 
sion for me immediately. Mr. Hamilton has met with a 
frightful accident on the London Road, and is in a dying 
state. 

Med. Well ! I have no hesitation in saying, he takes it 
uncommonly easy — he looks as if he was used to it. 

Grace. You mistake ; that is not Mr. Hamilton, but Mr. 
Courtly, who will explain everything, and conduct you to the 
spot. 

Young C. (aside). Oh ! I must put a stop to all this, or I 
shall be found out. {Aloud.) Madam, that were useless, for 
I omitted to mention a small fact which occurred before I left 
Mr. Hamilton — he died. 

Grace. He died ? 

Young C. He did. 

Grace. He did ? 

Young C. Dead ! 

WALTZ heard outside. 

Grace. Dear me ! Oh, then we needn't trouble you, Mr. 
Meddle. Hark ! I hear they are commencing a waltz — if you 
will ask me — perhaps a turn or two in the dance may tend to 
dispel the dreadful sensations you have aroused. 

Young C. {aside). Hears of my death — screams out — and 
then asks me to waltz ! I am bewildered ! Can she suspect 
me ? I wonder which she likes best — me or my double ? Con- 
found this disguise — I must retain it — I have gone too far with 
my dad to pull up now. (Aloud.) At your service, madam. 

(He crosses behind to l. and offers his hand.) 

Grace (aside). I will pay him well for this trick ! (Aloud.) 
Ah, poor Augustus Hamilton ! 

Exeunt, l., all but Med. 

Med. Well, if that is not Mr. Hamilton, scratch me out 
with a big blade, for I am a blot — a mistake upon the rolls. 
There is an error in the pleadings somewhere, and I will dis- 



LONDON ASSURANCE 5/ 

cover it. I would swear to his identity before the most dis- 
criminating jury. By the by, this accident will form a capital 
excuse for my presence here. I just stepped in to see how 
matters worked, and — stay — here comes the bridegroom elect — 
and, oh ! in his very arms, Lady Gay Spanker ! {Looks 
round.) Where are my witnesses? Oh, that some one else 
were here ! However I can retire and get some information, 
eh — Spanker versus Courtly — damages — witness. 

{Gets into an armchair, which he turns round, back to audi- 
ence and is well out of sight.) 

Enter Sir H., supporting Lady G., l. u. e. 

MUSIC changes to Sir Roger de Cover ly* 

Sir H. This cool room will recover you. 
Lady G. Excuse my trusting to you for support. 
Sir H. I am transported ! Allow me thus ever to support 
this lovely burden, and I shall conceive that Paradise is regained. 

(They sit on sofa at l. Sir H. at r. of Lady G.) 

Lady G. Oh ! Sir Harcourt, I feel very faint. 
Sir H. The waltz made you giddy. 
Lady G. And I have left my salts in the other room. 
Sir H. I always carry a flacon, for the express accommo- 
dation of the fair sex. 

{Produces a smelling-bottle.') 

Lady G. Thank you — ah ! {She sighs.) 

Sir H. What a sigh was there ! 

Lady G. The vapor of consuming grief. 

Sir H. Is it possible ! Have you a grief? Are you un- 
happy ? Dear me ! 

Lady G. Am I not married ? 

Sir H. What a horrible state of existence ! 

Lady G. I am never contradicted, so there are none of 
those enlivening, interesting little differences, which so pleas- 
ingly diversify the monotony of conjugal life, like spots of 
verdure — no quarrels, like oases in the desert of matrimony — 
no rows. 

Sir H. How vulgar ! what a brute ! 

Lady G. I never have anything but my own way ; and he 
won't permit me to spend more than I like. 



58 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Sir H. Mean-spirited wretch ! 

Lady G. How can I help being miserable ? 

Sir H. Miserable ! I wonder you are not in a lunatic 
asylum, with such unheard-of barbarity ! 

Lady G. But worse than all that ! 

Sir H. Can it be out-Heroded? 

Lady G. Yes, I could forgive that — I do — it is my duty. 
But only imagine — picture to yourself, my dear Sir Harcourt, 
though I, the third daughter of an Earl, married him out of 
pity for his destitute and helpless situation as a bachelor with 
ten thousand a year — conceive, if you can — he actually per- 
mits me, with the most placid indifference, to flirt with any old 
fool I may meet. 

Sir H. Good gracious ! miserable idiot ! 

Lady G. I fear there is an incompatibility of temper, which 
renders a separation inevitable. 

Sir H. Indispensable, my dear madam ! Ah ! had I been 
the happy possessor of such a realm of bliss — what a beatific 
eternity unfolds itself to my extending imagination ! Had 
another man but looked at you, I should have annihilated him 
at once ; and if he had the temerity to speak, his life alone 
could have expiated his crime. 

Lady G. Oh, an existence of such a nature is too bright 
for the eye of thought — too sweet to bear reflection. 

Sir H. My devotion, eternal, deep 

Lady G. Oh, Sir Harcourt ! 

Sir H. (more fervently). Your every thought should be a 
separate study — each wish forestalled by the quick apprehension 
of a kindred soul. 

Lady G. Alas ! how can I avoid my fate ? 

Sir H. If a life — a heart — were offered to your astonished 
view by one who is considered the index of fashion — the vane 
of the beau monde — if you saw him at your feet begging, be- 
seeching your acceptance of all, and more than this, what 
would your answer 

Lady G. Ah ! I know of none so devoted ! 

Sir H. You do ! {Throws himself upon his knees.) Be- 
hold Sir Harcourt Courtly ! 

MUSIC stops. 

(Med. jumps up into the chair and writes in his memorandum 

book.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE 59 

Lady G. {aside). Ha ! ha ! Yoicks ! Puss has broken 
cover. (Med. sits again.) 

Sir H. Speak, adored, dearest Lady Gay ! — speak — will 
you fly from the tyranny, the wretched misery of such a 
monster's roof, and accept the soul which lives but in your 
presence ! 

Lady G. Do not press me. Oh, spare a weak, yielding 
woman — be contented to know that you are, alas ! too dear to 
me. But the world — the world would say 

Sir H. Let us be a precedent to open a more extended and 
liberal view of matrimonial advantages to society. 

Lady G. How irresistible is your argument ! Oh ! pause \ 

{They put their chairs back.) 

Sir H. I have ascertained for a fact, that every tradesman 
of mine lives with his wife, and thus you see it has become a 
vulgar and plebeian custom. 

Lady G. Leave me ; I feel I cannot withstand your powers 
of persuasion. Swear that you will never forsake me. 

Sir H. Dictate the oath. May I grow wrinkled — may two 
inches be added to the circumference of my waist — may I lose 
the fall in my back — may I be old and ugly the instant I forego 
one tithe of adoration ! 

Lady G. I must believe you. 

Sir H. Shall we leave this detestable spot — this horrible 
vicinity? {Rises with Lady G.'s assistance.) 

Lady G. The sooner the better ; to-morrow evening let it 
be. Now let me return ; my absence will be remarked. {He 
kisses her hand.) Do I appear confused? Has my agitation 
rendered me unfit to enter the room ? 

Sir H. More angelic by a lovely tinge of heightened color. 

Lady G. To-morrow, in this room, which opens on the 
lawn. 

Sir H. At eleven o'clock. 

Lady G. Have your carriage in waiting, and four horses. 
Remember, please be particular to have four ; don't let the 
affair come off shabbily. Adieu, dear Sir Harcourt ! 

Exit, l. u. E. 

Sir H. {marching pompously across the stage). Veni, vidi, 
vici ! Hannibal, Caesar, Napoleon, Alexander never completed 
so fair a conquest in so short a time. She dropped fascinated. 



60 LONDON ASSURANCE 

This is an unprecedented example of the irresistible force of 
personal appearance combined with polished address. Poor 
creature ! how she loves me ! I pity so prostrating a passion, 
and ought to return it. I will ; it is a duty I owe to society 
and fashion. 

Exit, l. u. E. 

Med. {turning the chair round). " There is a tide in the 
affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." 
This is my tide — I am the only witness. "Virtue is sure to 
find its own reward." But I've no time to contemplate what 
it shall be — something huge. Let me see — Spanker versus 
Courtly — Crim. Con. Damages placed at one hundred and 
fifty thousand pounds at least, for juries always decimate your 
hopes. 

Enter Span., r. u. e. 

Span. I cannot find Gay anywhere. 

Med. The plaintiff himself — I must commence the action. 
Mr. Spanker, as I have information of deep and vital importance 
to impart, will you take a seat? (They sit solemnly. Med. 
takes out a note-book and pencil.) Ahem ! You have a wife ? 

Reenter Lady G., l. u. e. She crosses behind to r. door, 
and listens. 

Span. (r. a). Yes, I believe I 

Med. (l. a). Will you be kind enough, without any pre- 
varication, to answer my questions? 

Span. You alarm — I 

Med. Compose yourself and reserve your feelings; take 
time to consider. You have a wife ? 

Span. Yes 

Med. He has a wife — good — a bona fide wife — bound mor- 
ally and legally to be your wife, and nobody else's in effect, ex- 
cept on your written permission 

Span. But what has this 

Med. Hush ! allow me, my dear sir, to congratulate you. 

(Shakes his hand.) 

Span. What for ? 

Med. Lady Gay Spanker is about to dishonor the bond of 
wedlock by eloping from you. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 6l 

Span, (starting). What? 

Med. (pushing him down again). I thought you would be 
overjoyed. Place the affair in my hands, and I will venture to 
promise the largest damages on record. 

Span, (starting up ). Damn the damages ! — I want my 
wife. Oh, I'll go and ask her not to run away. She may run 
away with me — she may hunt — she may ride — anything she 
likes. Oh, sir, let us put a stop to this affair. 

Med. Put a stop to it ! do not alarm me, sir. Sir, you 
will spoil the most exquisite brief that was ever penned. It 
must proceed — it shall proceed. It is illegal to prevent it, and 
I will bring an action against you for wilful intent to injure the 
profession. 

Span. Oh, what an ass I am ! Oh, I have driven her to 
this. It was all that cursed brandy punch on the top of Bur- 
gundy. What a fool I was ! 

Med. It was the happiest moment of your life. 

Span. So I thought at the time ; but we live to grow wiser. 
Tell me, who is the vile seducer ? 

Med. Sir Harcourt Courtly. 

Span. Ha ! he is my best friend. 

Med. I should think he is. Them's the fellows. If you 
will accompany me — here is a verbatim copy of the whole 
transaction in shorthand — sworn to by me. 

Span. Only let me have Gay back again. 

Med. Even that may be arranged — this way. 

Span. That ever I should live to see my wife run away. 
Oh, I will do anything — keep two packs of hounds — buy up 
every horse and ass in England — myself included — oh ! 

Exeunt Span, and Med., l. i e. 

Lady G. (coming down). Ha ! ha ! ha ! Poor Dolly ! 
I'm sorry I must continue to deceive him. If he would but 
kindle up a little. So, that fellow overheard all — well, so much 
the better. 

Enter Young C, r. u. e. 

Young C. (l.). My dear madam, how fares the plot? 
Does my governor nibble ? 

Lady G. (r.). Nibble ! he is caught and in the basket. I 
have just left him with a hook in his gills, panting for very lack 
of element. But how goes on your encounter ? 



62 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Young C. Bravely. By a simple ruse, I have discovered 
that she loves me. I see but one chance against the best ter- 
mination I could hope. 

Lady G. What is it ? 

Young C. My father has told me that I return to town 
again to-morrow afternoon. 

Lady G. Well, I insist you stop and dine — keep out of the 
way. 

Young C. Oh, but what excuse shall I offer for disobe- 
dience ? What can I say when he sees me before dinner ? 

Lady G. Say — say Grace. 

Enter Grace, l. u. e., remaining up c., behind curtain. 

Young C. Ha! ha! 

Lady G. I have arranged to elope with Sir Harcourt myself 
to-morrow night. 

WARN curtain. 

Young C. The deuce you have ! 

Lady G. Now if you could persuade Grace to follow that 
example — his carriage will be in waiting at the Park — be there 
a little before eleven, and it will just prevent our escape. Can 
you make her agree to that ? 

Young C. Oh, without the slightest difficulty, if Mr. Au- 
gustus Hamilton supplicates. 

Lady G. Success attend you. {Goes r. i e.) 

Young C. I will bend the haughty Grace. {Goes l. i e.) 

Lady G. Do. 

Exeunt severally. 

RING curtain, 
Grace (emerging from curtain at back). Will you ? 



QUICK CURTAIN 



LONDON ASSURANCE 63 



ACTV 
Scene. — The same. 

Enter Cool., r. u. e. 

Cool. This is the most serious affair Sir Harcourt has ever 
been engaged in. I took the liberty of considering him a fool 
when he told me he was going to marry ; but voluntarily to 
incur another man's incumbrance is very little short of mad- 
ness. If he continues to conduct himself in this absurd manner, 
I shall be compelled to dismiss him. 

Enter Sir H., l. u. e., equipped for traveling. 

SirH. (l.). Cool! 

Cool (r.). Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Is my chariot in waiting ? 

Cool. For the last half hour at the park wicket. But, 
pardon the insinuation, sir ; would it not be more advisable to 
hesitate a little for a short reflection before you undertake the 
heavy responsibility of a woman ? 

Sir H. (to r.). No; hesitation destroys the romance of a 
faux pas, and reduces it to the level of a mere mercantile calcu- 
lation. 

Cool (to l.). What is to be done with Mr. Charles? 

Sir H. Ay, much against my will, Lady Gay prevailed on 
me to permit him to remain. You, Cool, must return him to 
college. Pass through London, and deliver these papers; 
here is a small notice of the coming elopement for the morning 
Post; this, by an eye-witness, for the Herald ; this, with all 
the particulars, for the Chronicle ; and the full and circum- 
stantial account for the evening journals — after which, meet us 
at Boulogne. 

Cool. Very good, Sir Harcourt. (Goes l.) 

Sir H. Lose no time. Remember — Hotel Anglais, Bou- 
logne-sur-Mer. And, Cool, bring a few copies with you, and 
don't forget to distribute some amongst my very particular 
friends. 



64 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Cool. It shall be done. 

Exit, L. I E. 
Enter Lady G., r. 

Lady G. (r.). Sir Harcourt ! 

Sir H. (l.). At your feet. 

Lady G. I had hoped you would have repented. 

Sir H. Repented ! 

Lady G. Have you not come to say it was a jest? — say 
you have ! 

Sir H. Love is too sacred a subject to be trifled with. 
Come, let us fly ! See, I have procured disguises 

Lady G. My courage begins to fail me. Let me return. 

Sir H. Impossible ! 

Lady G. Where do you intend to take me ? 

Sir H. You shall be my guide. The carriage waits. 

Lady G. You will never desert me? 

Sir H. Desert ! Oh, heavens ! Nay, do not hesitate — 
flight, now, alone is left to your desperate situation ! Come, 
every moment is laden with danger. {They are going R.) 

Lady G. Oh ! gracious ! 

Sir H. Hush ! what is it ? 

Lady G. I have forgotten — I must return. 

Sir H. Impossible ! 

Lady G. I must ! I must ! I have left Max — a pet stag- 
hound, in his basket — without whom life would be unendurable 
— I could not exist ! 

Sir H. No, no. Let him be sent after us in a hamper. 

Lady G. In a hamper ! Remorseless man ! Go — you 
love me not. How would you like to be sent after me — in a 
hamper ? Let me fetch him. Hark ! I hear him squeal ! 
Oh ! Max— Max ! 

Sir H. Hush ! for heaven's sake. They'll imagine you're 
calling the 'Squire. I hear footsteps; where can I retire? 

Exit, L. I E. 

Enter Med., Span., Daz., and Max, l. u. e.; Lady G. 

screams. 

Med. (l. a). Spanker versus Courtly ! — I subpoena every 
one of you as witnesses ! — I have 'em ready — here they are — 
shilling a-piece. {Gives them round.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE 65 

Lady G. (r. C.). Where is Sir Harcourt ? 

Med. There ! — bear witness ! — she calls on the vile de- 
linquent for protection ! 

Span. (a). Oh ! his protection ! (Max. l. j Daz. up r.) 

Lady G. What? ha! 

Med. I'll swear I overheard the whole elopement planned — 
before any jury ! — Where's the book? 

Span, (to Lady G.). Do you hear, you profligate? 

Lady G. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Daz. (down r.). But where is this wretched Lothario ? 

Med. Ay, where is the defendant ? 

Span. Where lies the hoary villain ? 

Lady G. What villain ? 

Span. That will not serve you ! — I'll not be blinded that 
way ! 

Med. We won't be blinded any way ! 

Max. I must seek Sir Harcourt, and demand an explana- 
tion ! Such a thing never occurred in Oak Hall before — it 
must be cleared up ! 

Exit, R. 

Med. (aside to Span.). Now, take my advice; remember 
your gender. Mind the notes I have given you. 

Span. (l. c, aside). All right ! Here they are ! Now, 
madam, I have procured the highest legal opinion on this 
point. 

Med. (l.). Hear ! hear ! 

Span. And the question resolves itself into a — into — what's 
this? (Looks at notes.) 

Med. A nutshell ! 

Span. Yes, we are in a nutshell. Will you, in every re- 
spect, subscribe to my requests — desires — commands — (looks 
at notes) — orders — imperative — indicative — injunctive — or 
otherwise ? 

Lady G. (aside). 'Pon my life, he's actually going to as- 
sume the ribbons, and take the box-seat. I must put a stop to 
this. I will ! It will all end in smoke. I know Sir Harcourt 
would rather run than fight. (Goes up stage.) 

Daz. (r.). Oh, I smell powder. (To Lady G.) Com- 
mand my services. My dear madam, can I be of any use ? 

Span. Oh ! a challenge ! I must consult my legal adviser. 

Med. No ! impossible ! (Crosses R. c.) 

Daz. Pooh ! the easiest thing in life ! Leave it to me. 



66 LONDON ASSURANCE 

What has an attorney to do with affairs of honor ? — they are 
out of his element. 

Med. Compromise the question ! Pull his nose ! — we have 
no objection to that. 

Daz. {turning to Lady G.). Well, we have no objection 
either — have we ? 

Lady G. No ! — pull his nose — that will be something. 

Med. And, moreover, it is not exactly actionable ! 

Daz. Isn't it ! — thank you — I'll note down that piece of 
information — it may be useful. 

Med. How ! cheated out of my legal knowledge ? 

{Crosses to Daz. who signifies he will pull his nose ; Med. 
hastily gets back to l.) 

Lady G. {crossing to l. a). Mr. Spanker, I am deter- 
mined ! — I insist upon a challenge being sent to Sir Harcourt 
Courtly ! — and — mark me — if you refuse to fight him — I will. 

Med. Don't; take my advice you'll incapacit 

Lady G. Look you, Mr. Meddle, unless you wish me to 
horsewhip you, hold your tongue. 

Med. I have no hesitation in saying and I say it boldly 
(Lady G. turns on him suddenly), that I am wanted in the 
next room. 

Exit, L. I E. 

Lady G. Mr. Spanker, oblige me by writing as I dictate. 

Span, {looking after Med.). Don't go ! He's gone — and 
now 1 am defenseless. Is this the fate of husbands ? A duel ! 
Is this the result of being master of my own family ? 

Lady G. Come, Dolly. 

Span. Don't Dolly me ! I won't be Dollied. 

{Sits l. c. Daz. wheels him round to l. table, sits on the arm 
of the chair and gives him pen, etc.) 

Lady G. {dictating). " Sir, the situation in which you were 
discovered with my wife " 

Daz. {repeating after Lady G. as Span, writes). "With 
my wife." 

Span, {angrily). Your wife ! 

Daz. No, no. Your wife. 

Lady G. {still dictating). "Admits of neither explanation 
nor apology." 



LONDON ASSURANCE 67 

Span. Oh, yes ! but it does — I don't believe you really in- 
tended to run quite away. 

Lady G. You do not, but I know better ; I say I did, and 
if it had not been for your unfortunate interruption, I do not 
know where I might have been by this time. Go on. 

Span. ' ' Nor apology. ' ' 

(Rises and whispers in Daz.'s ear.) 

Daz. Apology ? Oh ! one p. 

Span. I'm writing my own death-warrant — committing sui- 
cide on compulsion. 

Lady G. "The bearer will arrange all preliminary " 

Span. Premilliary 

Lady G. " Matters, for another day must see this sacrilege 
expiated by your life or that of " 

Span. Or that of the bearer ? 

Lady G. No. "Yours very sincerely, Dolly Spanker." 

Span, {with dignity). Adolphus Spanker. 

Lady G. Now, Mr. Dazzle. 

(Gives the letter over Span.'s head.) 

Daz. The document is as sacred as if it were a hundred 
pound bill. 

Lady G. We trust to your discretion. 

Span. His discretion ! Oh, put your head in a tiger's 
mouth, and trust to his discretion ! 

Daz. (folding the letter and sealing it with Span.'s seal, 
dragging Span, forward to use it from his fob chain). My 
dear Lady Gay, matters of this kind are indigenous to my 
nature, independently of their pervading fascination to all 
humanity ; but this is the more especially delightful, as you 
may perceive I shall be the intimate and bosom friend of both 
parties. (Span, down r.) 

Lady G. (c. ). Is it not the only alternative in such a case? 

Daz. (l.). It is a beautiful panacea in any, in every case. 
(Going, returns.) By the way, where would you like this 
party of pleasure to come off? Open air shooting is pleasant 
enough, but if I might venture to advise, we could order half- 
a-dozen of that Madeira and a box of cigars into the billiard 
room, to make a night of it. Take up the irons every now 
and then ; string for first shot, and blaze away at one another 
in an amicable and gentlemanlike way ; so conclude the matter 






68 LONDON ASSURANCE 

before the potency of the liquor could disturb the individualit/ 
of the object, or the smoke of the cigars render the outline 
dubious. Does such an arrangement coincide with your views ? 

Lady G. Perfectly. 

Daz. I trust shortly to be the harbinger of happy tidings. 

Exit, L. I E. 

Span, {crossing). Lady Gay Spanker, are you ambitious 
of becoming a widow ? 

Lady G. Why, Dolly, woman is at best but weak, and 
weeds become me. 

Span. Female ! am I to be immolated on the altar of your 
vanity ? 

Lady G. If you become pathetic, I shall laugh. 

Span. You are laughing ! Farewell — base, heartless, un- 
feeling woman ! 

Exit, L. U. E. 

Lady G. Ha ! well, so I am. I am heartless, for he is a 
dear, good little fellow, and I ought not to play upon his feelings ; 
but 'pon my life he sounds so well up at concert pitch, that I 
feel disinclined to untune him. Poor Doll, I didn't think he 
cared so much about me. I will put him out of pain. 

Exit, l. u. E. 

Enter Sir H., l. i e. 

Sir H. I have been a fool ! a dupe to my own vanity. I 
shall be pointed at as a ridiculous old coxcomb — and so I am. 
The hour of conviction is arrived. Have I deceived myself? 
Have I turned all my senses inward — looking toward self — 
always self? — and has the world been ever laughing at me? 
Well, if they have, I will revert the joke ; they may say I am an 
old ass ; but I will prove that I am neither too old to repent 
my folly, nor such an ass as to flinch from confessing it. A 
blow half met is but half felt. 

Enter Daz., l. i e. 

Daz. Sir Harcourt, may I be permitted the honor of a few 
minutes' conversation with you ? 
Sir H. With pleasure. 
Daz. Have the kindness to throw your eye over that. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 69 

{Gives letter.} 

Sir H. (reading). " Situation — my wife — apology — expiate 
— my life." Why, this is intended for a challenge. 

Daz. Why, indeed, I am perfectly aware that it is not quite 
en regie in the couching, for with that I had nothing to do ; 
but I trust that the irregularity of the composition will be con- 
founded in the beauty of the subject. 

Sir H. Mr. Dazzle, are you in earnest ? 

Daz. Sir Harcourt Courtly, upon my honor I am, and I 
hope that no previous engagement will interfere with an imme- 
diate reply in propria persona. We have fixed upon the 
billiard room as the scene of action, which I have just seen 
properly illuminated in honor of the occasion ; and, by the 
bye, if your implements are not handy, I can oblige you with 
a pair of the sweetest things you ever handled — hair -triggered 
— saw grip ; heirlooms in my family. I regard them almost in 
the light of relations. 

Sir H. Sir, I shall avail myself of one of your relatives. 
{Aside.') One of the hereditaments of my folly — I must accept 
it. {Aloud.) Sir, I shall be happy to meet Mr. Spanker at 
any time or place he may appoint. 

Daz. The sooner the better, sir. Allow me to offer you 
my arm. I see you understand these matters; — my friend 
Spanker is wofully ignorant — miserably uneducated. 

Exeunt, l. u. e. 

READY pistols* 
Reenter Max with Grace, r. u. e. 

Max (l.). Give ye joy, girl, give ye joy. Sir Harcourt 
Courtly must consent to waive all title to your hand in favor 
of his son Charles. 

Grace (r.). Oh, indeed ! Is that the pitch of your con- 
gratulation — humph ! the exchange of an old fool for a young 
one ? Pardon me if I am not able to distinguish the advan- 
tage. 

Max. Advantage ! 

Grace. Moreover, by what right am I a transferable cipher 
in the family of Courtly ? So, then, my fate is reduced to 
this, to sacrifice my fortune, or unite myself with a worm-eaten 
edition of the Classics ! 

Max. Why, he certainly is not such a fellow as I could have 



JO LONDON ASSURANCE 

chosen for my little Grace ; but consider, to retain fifteen thou- 
sand a year ! Now, tell me honestly — but why should I say 
honestly ? Speak, girl, would you rather not have the lad ? 

Grace. Why do you ask me? 

Max. Why, look ye, I'm an old fellow; another hunting 
season or two, and I shall be in at my own death — I can't 
leave you this house and land, because they are entailed, nor 
can I say I am sorry for it, for it is a good law ; but I have a 
little box with my Grace's name upon it, where, since your 
father's death and miserly will, I have yearly placed a certain 
sum to be yours, should you refuse to fulfil the conditions 
prescribed. 

Grace. My own dear uncle ! {Clasps him round the neck.) 

Max. Pooh ! pooh ! what's to do now? Why, it was only 
a trifle — why, you little rogue, what are you crying about ? 

Grace. Nothing, but 

Max. But what? Come, out with it. Will you have 
young Courtly? 

Reenter Lady G., l. u. e. 

Lady G. Oh ! Max, Max ! 

Max. Why, what's amiss with you ? 

Lady G. I'm a wicked woman ! 

Max. What have you done ? 

Lady G. Everything ! oh, I thought Sir Harcourt was a 
coward, but now I find that a man may be a coxcomb without 
being a poltroon. Just to show my husband how inconvenient 
it is to hold the ribbons sometimes, I made him send a chal- 
lenge to the old fellow, and he, to my surprise, accepted it, and 
is going to blow my Dolly's brains out in the billiard room. 

Max. The devil ! 

Lady G. Just when I imagined I had got my whip hand of 
him again, out comes my linch-pin — and over I go — oh ! 

Max. I will soon put a stop to that — a duel under my 
roof ! Murder in Oak Hall ! I'll shoot them both ! 

Exit, l. u. E. 

Grace. Are you really in earnest ? 

Lady G. Do you think it looks like a joke ? Oh ! Dolly, 
if you allow yourself to be shot, I will never forgive you — 
never ! Ah, he is a great fool, Grace ! but I can't tell why, 
I would sooner lose my bridle hand than he should be hurt on 
my account. 



LONDON ASSURANCE 7 1 

PISTOLS heard off L, 
Enter Sir H., l. i e. 

Tell me — tell me — have you shot him — is he dead — my dear 
Sir Harcourt ! You horrid old brute — have you killed him ? 
I shall never forgive myself. 

Exit, L. I E. 

Grace (r.). Oh ! Sir Harcourt, what has happened ? 

Sir H. (l.). Don't be alarmed, I beg — your uncle inter- 
rupted us — discharged the weapons — locked the challenger up 
in the billiard room to cool his rage. 

Grace. Thank heaven ! 

Sir H. Miss Grace, to apologize for my conduct were use- 
less, more especially as I am confident that no feelings of indig- 
nation or sorrow for my late acts are cherished by you ; but 
still, reparation is in my power, and I not only waive all 
title, right, or claim to your person or your fortune, but freely 
admit your power to bestow them on a more worthy object. 

Grace. This generosity, Sir Harcourt, is most unexpected. 

Sir H. No, not generosity, but simply justice, justice ! 

Grace. May I still beg a favor ? 

Sir H. Claim anything that is mine to grant. 

Grace. You have been duped by Lady Gay Spanker. 

Sir H. (aside). Ahem ! 

Grace. I have also been cheated and played upon by her 
and Mr. Hamilton — may I beg that the contract between us 
may, to all appearance, be still held good ? 

Sir H. Certainly, although I confess I cannot see the point 
of your purpose. 

Enter Max, with Young C, l. u. e. 

Max (l.). Now, Grace, I have brought the lad. 

Grace (r.). Thank you, uncle, but the trouble was quite 
unnecessary — Sir Harcourt holds to his original contract. 

Max. The deuce he does ! 

Grace. And I am willing — nay, eager, to become Lady 
Courtly. 

Young C. (r. c, aside). The deuce you are ! 

Max. But, Sir Harcourt 

Sir H. (a). One word, Max, for an instant. 

(They retire, off R.) 



72 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Young C. (aside). What can this mean? Can it be pos- 
sible that I have been mistaken — that she is not in love with 
Augustus Hamilton ? 

Grace (to c, aside). Now we shall find how he intends to 
bend the haughty Grace. 

Young C. (to her). Madam — miss, I mean — are you really 
in earnest — are you in love with my father ? 

Grace. No, indeed I am not. 

Young C. Are you in love with any one else ? 

Grace. No, or I should not marry him. 

Young C. Then you actually accept him as your hus- 
band ? 

Grace. In the common acceptation of the word. 

Young C. (aside). Hang me if I have not been a pretty 
fool ! (Aloud.) Why do you marry him, if you don't care 
about him ? 

Grace. To save my fortune. 

Young C. (aside). Mercenary, cold-hearted girl ! {Aloud.) 
Were you never in love ? 

Grace. Never ! 

Young C. (aside). Oh ! what an ass I've been ! (Aloud.) 
I heard Lady Gay mention something about a Mr. Hamilton. 

Grace. Ah, yes, a person who, after an acquaintanceship 
of two days, had the assurance to make love to me, and I 

Young C. Yes — you — well ? 

Grace. I pretended to receive his attentions. 

Young C. (aside). It was the best pretense I ever saw. 

Grace. An absurd, vain, conceited coxcomb, who appeared 
to imagine that I was so struck with his fulsome speech that he 
could turn me around his finger. 

Young C. (aside). My very thoughts ! 

Grace. But he was mistaken. 

Young C. (aside). Confoundedly ! (Aloud.) Yet you 
seemed rather concerned about the news of his death. 

Grace. His accident ? No, but 

Young C. But what ? 

Grace (aside). What can I say? (Aloud.) Ah! but my 
maid Pert's brother is a post-boy, and I thought he might have 
sustained an injury, poor boy. 

Young C. (aside). Curse the post-boy ! (Aloud.) Madam, 
if the retention of your fortune be the plea on which you are 
about to bestow your hand on one you do not love, and whose 
very actions speak his carelessness for that inestimable jewel he 



LONDON ASSURANCE 73 

is incapable of appreciating — know that I am devotedly, madly 
attached to you. 

Grace (r. a). You, sir? Impossible! 

Young C. (l. a). Not at all — but inevitable — I have been 
so for a long time. 

Grace. Why, you never saw me until last night. 

Young C. I have seen you in imagination — you are the 
ideal I have worshipped. 

Grace. Since you press me into a confession — which noth- 
ing but this could bring me to speak — know, I did love poor 
Augustus Hamilton — (reenter Max and Sir H., l. u. e.) 
but he — he is — no — more ! Pray, spare me, sir. 

Young C. (aside). She loves me ! And, oh ! here's my 
governor again ! What a situation I am in. What is to be 
done? 

Enter Lady G., l. i e. 

Lady G. Where have you put my Dolly ? I have been 
racing all round the house — tell me, is he quite dead ? 
Max. I'll have his body brought in. 

Exit, l. 

Sir H. (r.). My dear madam, you must perceive this un- 
fortunate occurrence was no fault of mine. I was compelled to 
act as I have done — I was willing to offer any apology, but that 
resource was excluded as unacceptable. 

Lady G. I know — I know — 'twas I made him write that 
letter — there was no apology required — 'twas I that apparently 
seduced you from the paths of propriety — 'twas all a joke, and 
here is the end of it. (Enter Max, Span., and Daz., l.) 
Oh ! if he had but lived to say, " I forgive you, Gay ! " 

Span. So I do ! 

Lady G. {seeing Span.). Ah ! he is alive ! 

Span. Of course I am ! 

Lady G. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ( Catches Span, in her arms and 
swings him round, taking him completely off his feet.) I will 
never hunt again — unless you wish it. Sell your stable 

Span. No, no, — do what you like — say what you like for 
the future ! I find the head of a family has less ease and more 
responsibility than I, as a member, could have anticipated. I 
abdicate ! 

{They go up l., his arm round her waist, hers on his shoulder. 
Daz. up r.) 



74 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Enter Cool, l. i e. 

Sir H. (l. a). Ah! Cool, here ! (Aside to Cool.) You 
may destroy those papers — I have altered my mind, and I do 
not intend to elope at present. Where are they ? 

Cool (l.). As you seemed particular, Sir Harcourt, I sent 
them off by the mail to London. 

Sir H. Why, then, a full description of the whole affair 
will be published to-morrow. 

Cool. Most irretrievably ! 

Sir H. You must post to town immediately, and stop the 
press. 

Cool. Beg pardon — but they would see me hanged first, 
Sir Harcourt ; they don't frequently meet with such a profitable 
lie. 

James {without). No, sir ! no, sir ! (Enter James, l. i e.) 
Sir, there's a gentleman, who calls himself Mr. Solomon Isaacs, 
insists upon following me up. 

Exit, l. 
Enter Mr. Solomon Isaacs, l. i e. 

Isaacs. Mr. Courtly, you will excuse my performance of a 
most disagreeable duty at any time, but more especially in such 
a manner. I must beg the honor of your company to town. 

Sir H. What ! how ! what for ? 

Isaacs (l. a). For debt, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. (a). Arrested? impossible! Here must be some 
mistake. 

Isaacs. Not the slightest, sir. Judgment has been given in 
five cases, for the last three months ; but Mr. Courtly is an eel 
rather too nimble for my men. We have been on his track, 
and traced him down to this village, with Mr. Dazzle. 

Daz. (down r.). Ah! Isaacs! how are you? How are 
Mrs. I. and all the little I.'s? 

Lady G. 
Daz. Span. 

Cool. 
Young C. Sir H. 

Grace. Isaacs, 

r. L. 



LONDON ASSURANCE ?$ 

Isaacs (l.). Thank you, sir. (Speaks to Sir H.) 

Max (r.). Do you know him ? 

Daz. Oh, intimately ! Distantly related to his family — 
same arms on our escutcheon — empty purse falling through 
a hole in a pocket; motto, " Reqiescat in pace" — which 
means, "Let virtue be its own reward." 

Sir H. (l. c, to Isaacs). Oh, I thought there was a mistake ! 
Know to your misfortune, that Mr. Hamilton was the person 
you dogged to Oak Hall, between whom and my son a most 
remarkable likeness exists. 

Isaacs. Ha ! ha ! Know to your misfortune, Sir Harcourt, 
that Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Courtly are one and the same 
person ! 

Sir H. Charles ! 

Young C. (up a). Concealment is in vain — I am Augustus 
Hamilton. 

Sir H. Hang me if I didn't think it all along ! Oh, you 
infernal cozening dog ! (Crosses to him.) 

Isaacs. Now, then, Mr. Courtly 

Grace (coming down r.). Stay, sir — Mr. Charles Courtly 
is under age — ask his father. 

Sir H. Ahem ! — I won't — I won't pay a shilling of the 
rascal's debts — not a sixpence ! 

Grace. Then I will — you may retire. 

Exit Isaacs, l. i e. 

Young C. I can now perceive the generous point of your 
conduct toward me ; and, believe me, I appreciate, and will 
endeavor to deserve it. 

Max (coming a). Ha ! ha ! Come, Sir Harcourt, you 
have been fairly beaten — you must forgive him — say you will. 

(Goes up.) 

Sir H. So, sir, it appears you have been leading, covertly, 
an infernal town life ? 

Young C. (a). Yes, please, father. 

(Imitates Master Charles.) 

Sir H. None of your humbug, sir ! (Aside.) He is my 
own son — how could I expect him to keep out of the fire? 
(Aloud.) And you, Mr. Cool ! — have you been deceiving 
me? 



76 LONDON ASSURANCE 

Cool (r.). Oh ! Sir Harcourt, if your perception was 
played upon, how could / be expected to see ? 

{Pause; he goes up and off l. i e.) 

Sir H. Well, it would be useless to withhold my hand. 
There, boy! {He gives his hand to Young C, l. Grace 
comes down on the r. side and offers her hand; he takes it.) 
What is all this ? What do you want ? 

Young C. Your blessing, father. {Kneels.) 

Grace. If you please, father. {Kneels.) 

Sir H. Oho ! the mystery is being solved. So, so, you 
young scoundrel, you have been making love — under the rose. 

Lady G. (l. a). He learnt that from you, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Ahem ! What would you do now, if I were to 
withhold my consent ? 

Grace. Do without it. 

Max {coming down). The will says, if Grace marries any 
one but you, her property reverts to your heir-apparent — and 
there he stands. 

Lady G. Make a virtue of necessity. 

Span. (r.). I married from inclination, and see how happy 
I am. And if ever I have a son 

Lady G. Hush ! Dolly, dear! 

{Claps her hand over his mouth.) 

Sir H. Well ! take her, boy ! Although you are too young 
to marry. {They retire with Max.) 

Lady G. 
Daz. Span. 

Young C. Grace. Sir H. Max. 

Lady G. Am I forgiven, Sir Harcourt ? 

Sir H. Ahem! Why — a {Aside.) Have you really 

deceived me? 

Lady G. Can you not see through this ? 

Sir H. And you still love me ? 

Lady G. As much as I ever did. 

Sir H. {is about to kiss her hand, when Span, interposes 
between them). A very handsome ring indeed. 

Span. Very, and my money paid for it. 






LONDON ASSURANCE 77 

{Puts her arm in his and they go up to Daz.) 

Sir H. Poor little Spanker ! 

Max (coming down l., aside to Sir H.). One point I wish 
to have settled. Who is Mr. Dazzle ? 

Sir H. (a). A relative of the Spankers, he told me. 

Max. Oh, no, a near connection of yours. 

Sir H. Never saw him before I came down here, in all my 
life. (To Young C.) Charles, who is Mr. Dazzle? 

Young C. Who? I don't know. Dazzle, Dazzle (Daz. 
comes r.), will you excuse an impertinent question? 

Daz. (r.). Certainly. 

Young C. Who the deuce are you ? 

Daz. I have not the remotest idea. 

All. How, sir? 





Lady G. 


Young C. 


Span 


Grace. 




SirH. 





Max. 



Daz. Simple question as you may think it, it would puzzle 
half the world to answer. One thing I can vouch — Nature 
made me a gentleman — that is, I live on the best that can be 
procured for credit. I never spend my own money when I can 
oblige a friend. I'm always thick on the winning horse. I'm 
an epidemic on the trade of tailor. For further particulars 
inquire of any sitting magistrate. 

READY curtain. 

Sir H. And these are the deeds which attest your title to 
the name of gentlemen ? I perceive you have caught the in- 
fection of the present age. Charles, permit me, as your father, 
and you, sir, as his friend, to correct you on one point. Bare- 
faced assurance is the vulgar substitute for gentlemanly ease ; 
and there are many, who, by aping the vices of the great, 
imagine that they elevate themselves to the rank of those, whose 
faults alone they copy. No, sir ! The title of gentleman is 
the only one out of any monarch's gift, yet within the reach of 
every peasant. It should be engrossed by Truth — stamped 



78 



LONDON ASSURANCE 



with Honor — sealed with Good-feeling— signed Man — and 
enrolled in every true and honest heart. 

RING curtain. 
SirH. 
Daz. Young C. 

Lady G. Grace. 

Span. Max. 

R. a l. 



CURTAIN 



NEW PLAYS. 



THE WEEPING WILLOWS, 

A cMilttary Drama in Three Acts. 
By BERNARD FRANCIS MOORE. 

Nine male, four female characters. Scenery, two exteriors and an interior, 
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CHARACTERS- 

(As originally produced by The Willard Club, of Chicago, at the Scandia 
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Gen. Jambs Preston, of the Confederate Army William J. Bourke. 

Col. Bobebt Van Halen, of the Confederate Army . . . Francis J. Owens. 
Capt. Homer Preston, a Union Cavalry Officer .... Benedict J. Short. 

Capt.jSDick Belmont, a Confederate Guerilla Thomas H. Owens. 

Capt. Edward Graham, of the Confederate Army Wm. R. Lynch. 

Chester Brown, a young man from the North .... Stephen J. Wallace. 

Texas Pete, a Union spy and Messenger Francis McDonough. 

Johnson, an Orderly Francis M. Bernard. 

Martin, a Confederate Drummer Boy Eugene Morrisey. 

Edith Preston, the General's daughter Miss Nellie O'Connor. 

Minnie Preston, the General's youngest Daughter . . Miss Lucy Gorman. 

Ethel Wainwright, Homer's affianced wife Miss Annie Kilduff . 

Sister Alice, an angel of mercy and Dick's deserted wife, Miss Clara Quinlan. 
Confederate Soldiers. 

Time : — During the Civil War. Place : — Virginia. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — Exterior of the Weeping Willow Plantation. Morning. The 
serpent on the hearth. "Are all the Yankees as cheeky as you are?" 
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HER BUSY DAY 

A Farce in One Act* 

By JAMES R. CONDRIN. 

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NEW PLAYS 



SUZETTE. 

cA Farce Comedy in Three cAcis. 
By BERNARD FRANCIS MOORE, 

Five male, four female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior, 
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PRICE J5 CENTS. 



CHARACTERS: 

Joseph Bk adford, a member of the Stock Exchange. 

Tom Blackmore, his partner. 

Bob Bradford, Bradford's son. 

Edwin Blackmore, Blackmore's son. 

James, Bradford's servant. 

Mrs. Archibald, Bradford's housekeeper. 

Etta Bradford, Bradford's daughter. 

Dora Blackmore, Tom's niece. 

Matilda, the cook. 

Time. — June. 

Place. — Bradford's Summer Home on the Hudson. 

Costumes. —Modern. 



SYNOPSIS. 

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